


Fate of the Generations

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Hogwarts Era, Multi, Mystery, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-28
Updated: 2008-12-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 163,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: In the summer after sixth year, Harry is faced with many decisions; how to proceed with the horcrux hunt, how to keep his friends safe and what to do about his ever changing feelings towards a certain red-haired girl.  What if this 'power the Dark Lord knows not' was in him all the time, but was being repressed? And could Ron's first Order mission bring back the answers that could unlock this power, forcing all of them to relive an ancient story and break the curse that became the fate of the generations.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:   
For July 2007.  


* * *

**Chapter One - A New Spy Is Born**

It was rare to find a moment of peace. Life usually revolved around chaos, death and distortion. Sitting in the garden, just savoring the smell of the grass on the breeze, the sound of birds, the feel of the sun warming his skin and the peace it provided, was time he cherished, especially as it wouldn't last. The cold would soon seep back into his body, his heart, his very soul and he would be faced with reality.

Eyes closed, he tried to concentrate on the warmth that infused his skin as he turned his face toward the sky, trying to forget the events from earlier that day. After all, he was sitting in the garden of his own home and that in itself was a miracle. Malfoy Manor had been raided several times in the past couple of years, mostly during the weeks following his father's imprisonment in Azkaban. It was amazing that he had an actual home to come back to. However, due to a legal ‘technicality', one that was surely of his father's own making, Lucius had been released just days earlier.

Draco nearly followed his father's footsteps, having stood before the Wizengamot just hours earlier to face charges of duplicity and conspiracy in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Remarkably, it was his mother who had lobbied feverishly for leniency toward her son, stressing that he was underage and under the thumb of adult wizards who were in a position to exert enormous influence on her young son.

He chuckled softly thinking back to the manner in which Narcissa Malfoy had thrown all of her social weight and a good portion of her own money toward Draco's defense. In fact, Narcissa's swift action is what had saved most of the Malfoy fortune and maintained their home and numerous businesses. The Ministry had seized many of the Malfoy assets as soon as Lucius entered Azkaban, but his mother had transferred deeds into others' names, placed much of the gold in trust and made swift partnerships to care for the businesses. Unbelievably, Draco had received a reprieve of sorts, being sentenced to probation. In effect, he was under house arrest, at least that is what his parents had placed him under and so it was that he found himself enjoying his botanical sanctuary, outside the confines of the manor.

"Draco!"

There it was. The cold returned with a vengeance as he whipped his head around from his seated spot on the terrace. Years of parental training brought him swiftly to his feet, shoulders pulled back and head held high.

"Yes, Father?"

The imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy stood in the double-doored entrance to his office. "Come inside. We need to talk." He spun around, his robes billowing in the summer heat. Draco followed him at a brusque pace, straight into his father's mahogany lair. He had long ago learned the consequences of not following orders. His father ruled with an iron fist, an icy strength, but there was still that rare flash of warmth that showed he had some feelings for his son. And that was the string that Draco clung to, the thin line that tethered him to his father. Yes, there was respect, drilled into him from the day of his birth, and power. Oh, yes, there was great power in the Malfoy name. He was set to inherit property, businesses, gold, everything in a vast fortune that had been nurtured for generations. With Draco now approaching manhood, his father was grooming him for his future position as businessman, gentleman of luxury, father of future Malfoys and Death Eater extraordinaire.

His entire extended family was linked firmly to the Dark Lord's ambitions, seeing as how they all had identical viewpoints on the future of the wizarding race. By continually mixing the wizarding and Muggle worlds, the potential of the wizarding world was diminishing. Only by keeping the blood-lines pure, would their way of life continue.

Draco took a seat in front of his father's large ornate desk, waiting for him to speak. His eyes remained focused on his father even as he looked down, his silver quill scratching on a piece of parchment as he wrote something down.

"Draco." It came out not as his name, but a question. "The Dark Lord is not pleased with your actions against Dumbledore. He doesn't like failure. You are to be brought before him tonight to explain yourself."

Draco's heartbeat increased, even as small beads of sweat built up on his brow. The fear building from within made him want to pull his eyes away from his father, but he somehow held himself still until his father finally looked up at him.

"Only due to your pureblood lineage and my good graces with the Dark Lord, has he agreed to give you an audience."

"Father, I would have finished the job if Snape hadn't interfered. Doesn't he understand that?"

"This was your task, your assignment, the chance for you to prove yourself. You hesitated and, in the eyes of our Lord, that is worse than total abject failure. Severus will be dealt with, as soon as he is found. You're lucky that you were discovered before Severus could take you into hiding."

He paused, eyebrows arched as he waited for a reaction. Quite surprisingly, Lucius stood and walked around to sit next to him. Draco hesitated, not sure if he should stand or stay seated. He finally opted to stay in the chair, but he kept his eyes on his father until he moved behind him to take the seat next to him.

"Son. He has another assignment for you and you're going to do it. Failure will result in your demise and I will not be able to spare you the next time. Do you understand?"

He reached out a hand, resting it on Draco's shoulder. This was the total extent of his fatherly love for him and Draco tried to absorb as much as he could of the small gesture.

"Severus has been an invaluable resource to the Dark Lord, but now that he has been discovered, we need another insider. Another contact in the school and more so, we need someone closer to the action. Potter and his friends are continually scheming against us and the Dark Lord wants someone on the inside, someone close," he squeezed Draco's shoulder to emphasize the word, "to Potter and his friends. Not just physically close. We need someone to ingratiate themselves into the group. Do you understand?"

The implications of his father's words were sinking in slowly and immediately Draco realized the huge roadblocks that lay in front of him.

"But Father, after Dumbledore...."

"Yes, I know. It won't be easy. Potter despises you and so do the Weasley brats."

"They _all_ despise me, Father! There's no way to get on their good side. Maybe I could befriend one of the Hufflepuffs or something and get information second hand. Or, I could try to join the D.A. some more, but Potter will never..."

"Then you start with the mudblood. She's a girl. Use your charm, your manners. Women are weak. You're a handsome, well cultured young man. Play on her emotions and you'll win her over."

Draco's mouth was open to retort, but he couldn't form a thought, at least not one that would make a good argument. He hated these people and they loathed him in return. It was a perfect relationship. Everyone knew their place and for him to try to befriend any one of them was an impossibility. He'd have to become the consummate actor and they'd all have to become total buffoons for him to pull this off. Besides, he wouldn't even be allowed back on the grounds.

"Father, they'll hex me on the spot the moment I enter the gates!"

Lucius stood again, removing his hand and heading back to the desk. He pulled out several sheets of parchment, pushing them in front of Draco as he spoke.

"That is why you need to start writing some letters. You need to write to every one of your professors, to the board of governors and anyone else who will listen and beg to be reinstated at the school. Agree to any terms, promise anything they want as long as they let you return." He was holding out a quill for Draco to take. Draco's eyes floated from the silver quill to his father's face and back again.

"I will add what support I can to get you re-enrolled. I suggest you start writing now because you may not be in any condition to do so tomorrow." That same fear he experienced before came back two-fold as the weight of his father's words hit him. He was to be punished tonight and wouldn't be able to write anything tomorrow. Fleeing became a very attractive thought at that moment and he felt his leg muscles twitch as they got ready to raise him up to fly from the room, but his father's piercing grey gaze on him glued him to his seat.

"I'm sorry son, but this is how it has to be. I expect you to face up to your responsibilities like a man. I know you're very capable. Now, you do as I've bidden and all will work out for the best. You do this and you'll be back in the Dark Lord's good graces and all of the wealth and power you have ever hoped for will be yours."

Draco's chest felt like it was crushing in on him as he quickly gathered up the parchments and quill, trying to disguise his panic. He rose, bowing to his father. "I'll just get started on these letters in my room."

How he got there without incident, he wasn't sure. All he remembered was the clicking sound of his heels on the marble floors and the feeling of perspiration pooling at the base of his spine. His feet carried him to his destination, but they seemed to be operating without the use of his brain, because it was buzzing with the impending doom of the upcoming evening.

Next thing he knew, he found himself sitting at his desk, staring at the parchment and considering what the Dark Lord would do to him that night. He had only experienced the Cruciatus curse once, very, very briefly. It left a stinging impression, one that he did not wish to revisit. _He may not punish you at all. Just keep your head bowed low._

‘Get hold of yourself, Draco,' he thought as his shaking hand reached for the quill. He blew out a big breath of air, hoping to steady his nerves and managed to write the new headmistress' name. How he would convince her to let him return was a mystery. He could lie and say it was all Snape's doing. He'd been under the Imperius Curse. Or, he could play on her emotions and say he hadn't been able to do it because he loved the headmaster. No, that wouldn't work. She'd see right through that. How about coming clean? Saying he saw the error of his ways and wished to repent. That might be the ticket.

He set to work and soon had one letter composed. He had promised his good behavior. He apologized for his actions and asked for forgiveness, swearing that he couldn't have harmed Dumbledore, it just wasn't in him. He didn't want to throw away his future and needed to complete his education. He would do anything, submit to any conditions or restrictions to prove himself worthy to return.

As the afternoon light crept slowly across his floor, he worked feverishly to complete several more letters, writing to Ministry personnel and professors and promptly sent them off. He finished signing the last one as his mother appeared in his doorway.

"Draco?"

"Mother?" He stood immediately, turning to stride toward her. He was now about one inch taller than she was, but still shorter than his father by several inches.

She placed her hands on his cheeks. "You father has told me of your meeting this evening and I've tried to dissuade this encounter, but I fear I have failed." Her thumbs were rubbing small circles on his jaw and she was smiling at him with tears in her eyes.

 

Embracing him was not an option, he knew. She had discontinued in his early teens at his father's insistence that it was not appropriate for a boy of his age to be held by his mother.   
  
"Be strong, son. You will get through this." She smiled again. Glancing around to be sure that no one was watching, she placed a light kiss on his forehead before turning to leave, heading toward her room. Moments later, Draco heard his father calling for him and with his feet feeling like lead weights, he trudged down the staircase to meet his fate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Escape and Punishment**

 

The morning of July 31st arrived and Harry didn't bother to look back as he heaved his trunk into the back of the waiting Ministry car that had come to pick him up from the Dursley's.  Ron and Ginny had accompanied Remus and Tonks on the trip to deliver him to the Burrow.  Now that he was of age and had fulfilled Dumbledore's request to return to Little Whinging one last time, the desire to escape this wallpapered prison was the only thing on his mind.  Before they could even knock on the door, Harry had thrown it open and pulled his belongings out.  Ron grabbed Hedwig's cage and helped him to lift the trunk.  Ginny stood in the doorway, peering into the house that sat behind its finely manicured lawn.  She appeared curious about this home that had been Harry's protection for all these years.  Harry never looked back as the car pulled away, delivering him to the only place he truly considered home.

 

The sun broke on August first and Harry's eyes popped open after a rather sleepless night.  Up until only two hours before, Harry had still been fighting with himself over what to do and how to do it.  Would he go back to Hogwarts or not, would he use it as a base or not, how would he balance the need to rid the world of Voldemort and his responsibilities to his friends.  They were going to follow him and if he left school, then they would as well.

 

Hermione would, of course, be crushed.  She was Head Girl, something she had earned and very much deserved.  She would be lost without being at school and yet, she had made it clear that her loyalty to Harry overrode any desire to finish out her seventh year.

 

Ron, on the other hand, could probably care less about missing school and yet, he was the one that most concerned Harry.  Ron's grades had really picked up during sixth year.  He was showing a real aptitude for several subjects and Harry would hate to be the reason that Ron lost his career opportunities.

 

If he were being honest, however, would any of them even have a career, or for that matter, a life, should he fail in his quest?  Sometimes he thought he was just fooling himself.  Why even think of anything else when all that was lying ahead of you was death?  On one rare occasion at his Aunt and Uncle's house, they had all gone out for an afternoon and Harry actually sat down and watched a couple of shows on the telly.  One of them had a psychiatrist talking about depression.  Harry listened intently as they spoke of people who had nothing to look forward to, who felt their life wasn't worth living and the testimony from their friends and family who couldn't understand how they had slid into this realm of hopelessness.  Harry had considered this and despite the same feelings of dread, of the assurance that he would either die or become a murderer, Harry still seemed to want to live.  There was something inside of him that still hoped, still dreamed for a home and a family and friends.  A life full of happiness.  It was still possible, he was sure of it.

 

Holding on to that hope was what got him out of bed on this morning.  He grabbed his clothes and shuffled down to the bathroom for a warm shower.  Ginny was walking out, wrapped in her bathrobe, her hair hanging damply down her back.

 

"Oh!  Sorry."  She stopped and backed up a step, briefly making eye contact.

 

"No problem.  Didn't mean to scare you."  He offered a small smile and then noticed that Ginny was just standing there, as if she had something to say and was contemplating whether to take the plunge.  Her expression was unreadable, but she looked him straight in the eye for a brief second and seemed to think twice about saying something.  The moment passed and she simply turned to go around him, muttering a quiet, "Good morning."

 

Harry's first urge was to grab her arm, to stop her and talk to her, but he knew this would be in direct conflict with their rather finalized split just six weeks earlier.  He let her pass, but he turned to watch her walk away and at the last second, she glanced over her shoulder at him, then looked down for a moment and finally walked on to her room.

 

Somehow, just seeing her expression made his heart ache.  He really liked her and that part of him that still had hope, wanted her to be in his life, but it also meant that for her to be in his future, she would have to remain safe.  Being safe at this juncture meant being left out of his day to day activities.  It was a vicious circle Harry found himself in, and Ginny was stuck in it as well.

 

After his shower, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley cooking up breakfast. Ron and Ginny were sitting at the table and it appeared that Harry had interrupted a conversation as they stopped speaking the moment he walked in.

 

"Mornin' Harry!" Ron greeted him with a smile on his face.

 

"Good Morning, Harry dear!" added Mrs. Weasley.

 

"Morning," he offered back as he took a seat next to Ginny, but a seat away on the bench.  Even as he sat, he wondered what made him sit next to her when he knew that he should be sitting on the other side.  Why was he torturing himself like this?  Why was he doing it to her?  This was just giving them both false hope, right?  Well, he was seated and he couldn't very well get up and move.  That would be rather rude and obvious, so he decided it was just best to stay put and finish his breakfast.  

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."  He smiled as his plate was heaped up with bacon and eggs.

 

"Now you eat up.  I still think you're too thin for your own good."  She was bustling along, cleaning up the dishes while a feather duster dusted the furniture in the parlor and a mop went over the floor by itself.

 

Everyone chewed quietly on their breakfast, but Harry noticed the sideways glances Ginny gave him.  He looked at Ron who shifted his eyes between the two and then finally broke the silence.  "Ginny and I were thinking of playing a little Quidditch.  Do you want to join us, Harry?"

 

"Um...actually, I have to make a little trip today."

 

Mrs. Weasley's ears perked up and she turned back from her cleaning.  "A little trip where?"

 

"I need to go up to Hogwarts and see Professor McGonagall, or is it Headmistress McGonagall now?"

 

"She's officially the Deputy Headmistress until the Board of Governors reconvenes this month."  Molly added.  "Why do you need to see her?"

 

"I'm afraid that's between Professor Dumbledore and myself."

 

*** 

 

Even as he tried desperately to fall back asleep, to fight off the consciousness that was trying to bring him back, Draco's body kept reminding him that he was indeed alive.  The pain running through his limbs, the headache, the churning in his stomach all confirmed the fact that he was still walking the planet and had survived the punishment handed down by the Dark Lord.  The repeated Crucio, called over and over from multiple wands had left a burning reminder of his displeasure.  Draco swallowed and found even that was painful.  He forced his eyes to open, just then realizing that he was curled up in a fetal position in his bed under the duvet and looking at a glass full of some pinkish liquid on his bedside table.  A small note lay next to it.  Despite the terrible ache in his arms, he slowly reached over, wincing as he read it.

 

_Draco,_

_Drink this.  It's a pain potion and should help.  You may want to consider a hot bath and a lot of rest for the next couple of days.  I will arrange to have some tea brought to you this morning._

_Mother_

 

He didn't want to move and yet, he wanted to get the potion into his system as soon as possible.  It took several minutes, moving very gingerly, to bring himself up to a sitting position so that he could drink the liquid down.  His hands were shaking as he held the glass and he looked down at them to see silver and bluish scars running across his hands and up his arms.

 

Moments later a house elf appeared with hot tea and a scone along with two letters, one bearing the Hogwarts seal.  He decided just to sit for a few minutes to see if the pain potion would start working and allow his hands to open the letters.  He was almost afraid to look at himself in a mirror for fear there would be scars on his face as well.  

 

A short while later, as the shaking in his hands subsided, he opened the two letters.  The first, from the Hogwarts Board of Governors, indicated their opinion that Draco's reinstatement at the school would be left up to the current headmistress, but that they would support him if he agreed to a probational status.  That was one, somewhat good, piece of news and he dreaded opening the other letter, sure that it would squash any plans for a return.  He was certain that his father would provide private tutors to finish out his education, should he not be allowed to return, but more importantly, he needed to return to put this new plan into action.  He didn't want a repeat of the previous night's torture and fulfilling his father's request to spy on Potter and the Weasel would do wonders to redeem himself.  He broke open the seal and read the letter.

 

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I have received your letter requesting your return to Hogwarts.  Considering the statements I have received from witnesses concerning your actions on the night of Professor Dumbledore's death, I have to admit my great hesitancy in allowing your return.  You have demonstrated a great disregard for Wizarding law and even greater disrespect for your fellow students and professors.  However, I also noted that despite your numerous flaws in character, you did show the smallest amount of moral decency in your actions._

_Because, according to all witnesses present, you did not actually commit the crime against Professor Dumbledore and due to my smallest fiber of hope that you will see the error of your ways, I will allow your return to the school on the following conditions:_

_1)_ _You will be required to return to your dormitory every evening by 6pm.  Your house prefect and the Head Boy or Head Girl will be required to confirm your identity and presence in said dormitory every evening and report this information to me on a regular basis._

_2)_ _You will not be allowed to participate in Quidditch, nor attend any practices or games._

_3)_ _You will attend all of your classes unless you have written permission from myself to miss a class.  If any teachers report you absent without my authorization, you will be expelled._

_4)_ _You will not be allowed to participate in any Hogsmeade weekends._

_5)_ _Your dormitory will be regularly searched for any contraband items, potions, books, etc._

_6)_ _Use of the library will be allowed only with direct supervision from either Madam Pince, another teacher, or the presence of the Head Girl or Head Boy._

_7)_ _Any floo privileges are revoked._

_8)_ _Any mail you wish to send or receive will be reviewed by myself first.  You are not permitted to travel to the owlery, nor have an owl present in your dormitory._

_Your failure to comply with any of these terms will result in your immediate expulsion.  If you agree to these conditions, please reply to this letter and present yourself to the Head Boy or Head Girl when you board the train to return on September 1st._

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Hogwarts_ _School_ _of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 

Draco let out a breath, the letter dropping to his lap.  A huge relief spread throughout his body and he reached over for his tea.  Rest would be required for the next few days and then he would start to formulate his plan for his return to Hogwarts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Decisions and Regrets**

A quick owl to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall in the morning resulted in her opening the floo for Harry at precisely 3:00 that afternoon so that he could meet with her at the school.  An Auror bodyguard stepped out of the fireplace directly behind Harry and into the former headmaster's office.  The floo shut immediately behind him, causing his head to jerk around at the sudden noise.  Professor McGonagall stood near her desk and acknowledged his entrance.

 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."

 

"Good afternoon, Professor."  He quickly dusted himself off and strode over to her desk.  Well, it was her desk now, although he still expected to see Dumbledore walk through the door at any moment.  Everything still appeared the same except for a few personal effects of the new deputy headmistress and Harry swallowed a lump in his throat as the memories of that fateful night flashed through his head.

 

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."  He stood in front of the chair and was about to sit when something told him to wait.

 

"Please sit down, Harry."  

 

She very rarely ever used his first name.  The surprise of hearing it brought his focus up firmly to her eyes and he could see a warmth and kindness behind her usual stern gaze.  He knew what he had to say was going to be difficult and had to be handled with a maturity that he would need to demonstrate from the onset.  So, deciding that his 17 years would need to be sufficient, he stood as tall as he could and spoke in his most firm and eloquent tone.

 

"After you, Professor."  He gestured for her to take her seat and only after, did he seat himself.  She appeared a bit intrigued, arching one eyebrow ever so slightly.

 

"What can I do for you today?"  She clasped her hands and rested them on the desk in front of her.

 

Again, Harry internally confirmed his resolve, sitting up as tall as he could.

 

"Professor, I know that you are aware of my involvement with Professor Dumbledore last spring on the day of his death.  He gave me a task to complete: he entrusted me with information that is of great importance and I promised him that I would see it through to its completion."

 

"Yes, and I still want to know what exactly is going on.  Frankly, I'm shocked that Albus did not confide in me about this discovery, but knowing him for as long as I have, I trusted that there was a reason.  However, as a student in my school, I am responsible for your safety.  So, I will again have to insist that you tell me what it is that Albus was trying to accomplish."

 

"I'm sorry, Professor, but that will not be possible."  She opened her mouth to rebuke his statement, but Harry stood, quickly attempting to gain some control over the conversation, holding up a hand to stave off her reply.

 

"I have known for over five years now of my involvement in this whole story and even though I'd rather just be a student here, leading my happy-go-lucky life, the sad fact remains that I have the ultimate responsibility of defeating the greatest dark wizard of our time.  I don't want this responsibility.  I want to play Quidditch, attend classes, spend time with friends and be a normal seventeen year old, but no one asked what I wanted and now I'm thrust into this role.  The thing is, I do have some wonderful friends that I care about and I'm willing to fulfill my responsibilities in order to ensure that they have the possibility of a future."

 

He paced the floor, noticing the Auror still standing guard near the fireplace as he continued.

 

"I was not planning on returning to school this year."  

 

Professor McGonagall sucked in a sharp breath, a look of concern on her face.

 

"And, Hermione and Ron were not going to return either, instead insisting that they would accompany me in completing Dumbledore's task."

 

"Mr. Potter!  I cannot allow..."

 

He cut her off.  "However, for both logistical and personal reasons, I have decided that we'll all return to Hogwarts on September first.  We'll use this as our base of operations.  We will attend classes when we can, but I'll be coming and going from the castle as necessary to fulfill my other responsibilities."

 

McGonagall rose to her feet.  Harry knew the anger building up within her would come forth in a long soliloquy within moments, but he continued on, using his most mature tone and pulling up all his height, which now bested the headmistress by an inch or two.

 

"I'll do everything I can to ensure Ron and Hermione's safety and will try to keep us in the castle as much as possible.  I'll inform you of our activities and whereabouts as I see fit, but I must insist that you communicate to your staff that I be allowed to move about the castle and grounds as necessary and that you will take no action against Ron, Hermione or myself when we are absent."

 

"Mr. Potter!  This is totally unacceptable!  This is an institution for learning.  There are rules that must be obeyed.  I cannot allow my students to come and go as they please and then expect all of the other students to simply ignore that it's going on!"

 

Harry stopped pacing, took a large step toward the Professor and planted himself firmly in front of her.  He looked her directly in the eye and spoke very loudly and very slowly.

 

"Deputy Headmistress, my responsibilities are to the wizarding people of Britain!  I'm sorry if you disagree with me, but my terms are not up for discussion.  You can either support me in this effort or you can expel me and my friends, for we ARE GOING TO DO THIS WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.  MY DECISION IS FINAL."

 

Harry's heart was beating at a fevered pitch, the heat rushing through his face confirming the fact that he was indeed yelling at one of the few authoritarian figures that he truly respected.  He kept his mouth closed, but breathed heavily through his nose, his fists clenched at his side, leaning forward in anticipation of her impending tirade.

 

Then, to his utter disbelief, her shoulders slumped just a bit, enough that Harry sensed her resolve crumbling.  Even more unbelievable was the slight tremble in her lip and the water that built behind her eyes.  He'd never seen emotion in this woman.  She was always a pillar of strength and he'd brought her to tears.  This was almost too much for him to handle, but he stared at her as she drew in a long breath.

 

"Of course I support you, Harry.  I have done my best to look out for you ever since you were an infant and I will continue to do everything in my power to help you and your friends."  She reached up to wipe away the tear and then took her seat behind the desk.

 

"Professor, I'm sorry for raising my voice to you.  I didn't mean to upset you, I just needed you to understand how important this is."  He remained standing, but turned to walk back to her desk.

 

"Harry, it's hard for me to admit that you are no longer the small child I met fifteen years ago and that you do indeed have a terrible burden on your shoulders.  You're becoming a man and an extremely capable and talented wizard.  I realize I'm not a substitute for your family, but I am very proud of you and what you have accomplished."

 

Harry's posture softened as he bit his lip during her reply.  For some reason, he felt the need to show her more than mere politeness.  He turned to the Auror that was standing nearby.  "Will you excuse us for a moment?"  The robed figure nodded and stepped through the doorway into the corridor that led to the spiral staircase.

 

Harry bent down in front of the headmistress, taking her hands in his own.

 

"Professor, thank you for everything.  I can't tell you what it means to me to have you tell me that.  I promise that I will try to keep us all in class as much as possible.  You know that I don't want to put Ron or Hermione in danger, but it's their choice and I can't talk them out of it."

 

He waited for some acknowledgement which came in the form of a nod as it appeared that the professor was still getting a grip on her emotions.  Stepping back from her desk, he called to the Auror in the corridor, asking him to return.

 

Professor McGonagall seemed to regain her usual composure.  "Mr. Potter, I feel I should inform you of an unexpected development."  Harry nodded for her to continue.  "Draco Malfoy will be returning to school."

 

Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers and the rage built inside of him.  How could they allow him back?  It was absurd!  He was so angry he couldn't even form the words to express it and McGonagall took the opportunity to continue her explanation.

 

"He will be on a probationary status and will have strict rules that he must follow or he will be expelled.  I feel certain you do not agree with this, but my decision has been made and I wanted you to be aware of this before September first."

 

*** 

 

A short while later, having ended his visit with the Deputy Headmistress, Harry stepped out of the floo at the Burrow. He marched across the room, heading into the kitchen and straight out the back door.  "DAMMIT!"  He ranted as he stomped around the garden, kicking a bench and finally grabbing an unsuspecting garden gnome and sending him flying.

 

During Harry's final week at the Dursley's, his uncle seemed to intentionally do his best to make his life even more miserable, if that were possible.  He sensed his uncle's desire for one last ‘hurrah' of contempt before Harry could escape.  The regular delivery of the Daily Prophet had been confiscated and burned and Hedwig monitored continuously, barring the delivery of anything except Harry's one short required letter to Remus.  Harry had now learned, that fateful week had brought the release of Lucius Malfoy and the news of Draco's hearing.  

 

The fact that no one had bothered to tell him that Lucius Malfoy was out of prison was eating away at his insides.  And how could McGonagall allow that stinking rat, Malfoy, back in school?  His duplicity in Dumbledore's death was evident.  Didn't he have enough on his mind?  Now he could add worrying about the Malfoy family and all their cronies cursing him every time his back was turned!

 

He made his way to the porch and sat down on the step, holding his head in his hands.  A few moments later he heard the door to the kitchen creak open and soft footsteps approach.  He saw a pair of jean-clad legs fold up next to him and his thoughts turned from Malfoy to another certain person he had been avoiding.  This day was just getting better and better by the minute.  He wasn't in the mood to get into another discussion about this whole mess and he was preparing an abrupt answer to whatever statement Ginny was about to make.  To his astonishment, however, her only commentary was to  reach up and stroke the nape of his neck.

 

It felt so soothing; he immediately felt so much of his tension drain.  He wanted to turn and wrap his arms around her, but he couldn't.  Not after the way he'd broken things off between them back in June.  He had made it pretty clear that they couldn't be a couple.  It was ironic that his reason for breaking up with her was so that they could be together.  At least he hoped that there could be a future for them.  He ached for her touch and feeling her hand on his neck was the best sensation he'd felt since June.  This was going to be so difficult.  How was he going to stay away from her when he craved her touch like this?  She was one of the few really good things in his life, something he cherished and wanted to protect.  He knew he should walk away or at the very least, pull away and not lead her on by allowing this to continue.  The words slipped out before he could think to restrain them.

 

"Gin, I'm sorry about us."

 

There was silence for a moment and Harry started to regret having said anything, but he noticed that her hand continued to stroke his hair.  So, it must not have been too terrible.  He was almost tempted to look at her, to gauge her reaction, but he kept his head down, not wanting to lose this wonderful feeling she was providing.

 

"I'm sorry, too."

 

Harry thought for a moment.  He didn't know what else to say to her.  He couldn't promise her anything.  He didn't want to get her hopes up, only to dash them again so he finally decided to say what had been bothering him in the first place.

 

"No one told me about Lucius Malfoy, and now McGonagall is allowing Draco Malfoy to return to school."

 

She didn't reply, but continued her ministrations on his neck and ran her hand through his hair, sending more soothing sensations through him.

 

"Well, that's not in your control, is it?  I suggest we go inside and have some dinner and try to enjoy Bill's wedding and the remains of our summer, and come September first, we can decide what to do about the Malfoys."

 

She always seemed to make everything better.  It was such a simple answer, but it brightened his spirit considerably.

 

"You know, you're right."

 

He raised his head, a smile on his face.  He turned to her, only to find that she was right there, mere inches away as their eyes locked.  He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he knew it wasn't right and he stopped himself from moving forward.  It was now up to her.  If she moved in, that was her choice, but he wasn't going to temp fate.  Her eyes were so beautiful, rich and brown.  It wasn't until then that he realized her hand was still on his neck and ever so slowly, it slid down his jaw.  She held his face in her hand and gently leaned in and gave him the simplest, most chaste of kisses.  It was full of tenderness and love, kindness and compassion.  His eyes remained closed, even after she pulled away.

 

Oh, this was going to be a rough month!

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione arrived home twenty one days before the start of term after a lengthy holiday with her parents.  Her initial reaction to their plans for the summer was disappointment, followed immediately by a huge wave of guilt.  Dumbledore's funeral and all the events that had led up to it were firmly imprinted on her.  How was she supposed to relax and go on holiday with her parents when her heart and mind were full of grief, concern, determination and focus on the horcrux issue and to top it off, a full dose of raging teenage hormones?  For nearly two weeks, all she dreamt of, even daydreamed of, was the sensation of leaning against Ron at the funeral.  Her feelings of loss for their headmaster had been genuine, but it was the memory of Ron's strong arm around her, his scent, his movement and comforting words that overshadowed all else.  

 

For the first time that she could recall, she wanted to relinquish her image of strength and intelligence, and give herself over to him.  She wanted to drop her walls and allow herself to be held, cared for and loved.  It's not that she hadn't experienced love before.  She had, with her parents.  They were both quite affectionate toward her, but this was different, this was with a boy.  No, this was with a man.  Her longtime friend, once a lanky, immature kid, had transformed into a tall, muscular and dare she say, gorgeous, man.  This single thought brought a wave of heat to her face.  Friendship was still the base of their relationship, but she was positive it wasn't her imagination telling her that he felt something more, something she was sensing as well.

 

The fact that she hadn't seen her parents in nearly ten months dumped her into a well of guilt that she had to climb out of, ever so slowly, during their six week hiatus.  Deciding to put as much energy as she could into spending time with them, they talked frequently and she shared what she could - some things about her life were best kept secret.  They actually had a very lovely time and Hermione felt much more relaxed when August 10th arrived.

 

Back at home, she started to plan for the new term, well not so much for that as the next phase in their life.  Them.  Harry, Ron and Hermione.  Some friends and dorm mates were now calling them the Trio.  They were rarely separated, doing everything together, and being quite successful in solving quite a few riddles.  Each of them had unique qualities that they brought to the group.  Harry was courageous, always thinking of others, very skilled at defense and determined above all else to find a way to finish this war.  Ron was the strategist.  All those games of chess were coming in handy.  Like Harry, he was also becoming very talented in the defense department.  His height and strength demanded attention and provided a much needed sense of security for the other two.  That temper of his still got the best of him now and then, but he was able to control it much better than he had in the past.  Now he tended to channel the anger into a controlled force of power that had to be reckoned with.

 

Hermione, well, she was the knowledge base, the researcher, the scientist who discovered the cure and created the vaccine.  She was also, very often, the voice of reason and common sense, looking ahead to the potential consequences of every action.

 

Now, just weeks before the start of term, Hermione was coming out of her vacation- induced haze and refocusing her energy on the task at hand.  The trip to France had been just what her body needed.  She'd slept a lot, relaxed on the beach, read, and enjoyed wonderful meals and long talks with her parents.  It had renewed her spirit.

 

The summer had been spent with the depressing knowledge that she wasn't going back to school.  The one bright spot on the horizon was Bill and Fleur's wedding, approaching in just a week. They would have one last happy day to spend with friends and family.  After that, they were leaving on a horcrux hunt, without anyone's knowledge or permission, and without knowing how long or how dangerous this mission would prove.

 

Arriving home, she discovered five letters awaiting her, one from Harry, two from Ginny and two from Ron.  She opened Harry's first and was, admittedly, delighted to hear he had changed his mind, allowing them to return to Hogwarts, even if in a limited capacity.  The two from Ginny were friendly, informative and light, keeping her up to date of all the activities around the Burrow.

 

Saving the two from Ron for a moment when she was alone in her room, she carefully opened the first.  It started with light comments, jokes and promises to do his homework, all things she knew would play into their comfort zone, but the tone of the last paragraph changed and Hermione's breathing sped up as she finished reading.

 

_We miss you terribly.  Well, at least I know that I miss you terribly, but I'm sure Ginny and Harry have told you that as well.  I hope that you are having a good holiday and will feel better when you return.  I've thought about the funeral a lot since being home.  I still can't believe that he's gone.   This is kind of morbid to say, but I suppose part of me enjoyed comforting you during the funeral, although I hate to see you sad and I'd much rather see you with a big smile on your face.  Please save me a dance or two at the wedding.  If I have to get all dressed up in those stuffy robes, I think I deserve at least one dance with you._

 

He closed with a couple of lines about her coming out to meet them at Diagon Alley and finally finished with, _Yours, Ron._

 

The second letter was much more upbeat, sharing stories from his summer and regarding Harry's plan for them along with his hopes for a good seventh year.  He also included a few sentences of a more personal nature, sharing his thoughts about their upcoming departure.  This time it was signed, _Love, Ron_.

 

A week later, Hermione kissed her parents goodbye and hugged them a little longer than usual, knowing that it was possible this could be their last embrace.  Then she floo'd over to the Burrow on August seventeenth.  The Weasley household was its usual bustling self, a swarm of redheads coming and going.  Harry and Ginny had been the first to meet her at the fireplace, offering hugs and welcoming smiles.  Scanning the room for the person she most wanted to see, it didn't take long to notice his now even taller figure standing in the doorway.  He smiled that funny, crooked grin that warmed her heart and waved "Hey, ‘Mione."

 

She smiled at his use of a nickname for her and without hesitation, marched right over and wrapped her arms around him in a brief, but warm, hug.  His arms reached around her waist, lifting her off the ground a few inches and then setting her back down.  They broke apart immediately and Hermione turned to see Mrs. Weasley's eyes shifting between the two of them before wrapping Hermione in a bone-crushing hug and finally shooing them all off to get ready for the wedding rehearsal. 

 

The next couple of days were a blur of activity with the large number of people coming and going for the wedding.  She did save several dances for Ron, noting how handsome he looked and the surprising grace he displayed as he twirled her about.  Harry, Bill and even Fleur's cousin had all danced with her and she had a truly enjoyable time.  Her time with Ron on the dance floor proved to be the only true alone time they experienced during her stay, but over the course of the next week, they spent a lot of time working on their essays, swimming and degnoming the garden, side by side.  The remains of the summer flew past with a quick trip to Diagon Alley before they all arrived at Kings Cross on September first.

 

Proudly displaying her Head Girl Badge, Hermione went to work, performing her duties with due diligence and confidence.  Despite her small frame, she was an imposing figure, calling out instructions and organizing the Prefects into a finely tuned machine.

 

Just five minutes before departure, she was talking with the Head Boy, Zacharias Smith, when a voice cleared its throat behind her.  Looking over her shoulder, she frowned finding Draco Malfoy, standing emotionless in his finely pressed robes.  Not as tall as Ron, Draco still towered over her, but she took a firm stance in front of him, Zach directly behind her.

 

"Miss Granger."  Just using the title appeared agonizing, but he must have thought it best to start on the right foot.

 

"Malfoy.  Professor McGonagall has informed me of your return to Hogwarts and all of the stipulations involved."

 

"Yes, well as you can see, I'm reporting to the Head Girl and Head Boy as instructed in my letter from the Professor.  So, is there anything you require from me or may I board the train?"

 

Zach, still standing behind her, spoke up as if to reinforce their control over the situation.  "You can start by wiping that smirk off your face before we send you home right now."

 

"I don't believe I was ‘smirking' as you describe.  However, I would be more than happy to provide any expression you would care to see."  Draco's expression remained neutral.

 

Taking a step closer to him, Hermione couldn't resist the temptation.  "How about a little regret, guilt or humility?  They would do just fine."  Out of habit, he scrunched up his nose in disgust, but quickly reined himself in.

 

"Now, please board the train.  Do NOT sit with any members of Slytherin house.  There is a compartment at the front of the car with your name on it.  You will sit there.  Don't speak with anyone other than myself or Mr. Smith during your ride.  When you arrive at Hogwarts, you'll check in with us on the platform before riding up to the castle.  Are my instructions clear?"

 

Draco appeared to just barely tolerate Hermione's tone.  She sensed that he was just itching to insult her, but his desire to get on the train forced him to answer.

 

"Crystal."  As if to annoy her even more, he nodded to Zach who she knew was half-blood, showing him to be far more deserving of any acknowledgement than she was.  Moving with haste, but still maintaining his graceful demeanor, he stepped up onto the train and found his compartment.

 

*** 

 

The first day of term had its usual hectic start.  Hermione, Ron and Harry all met for breakfast in the Great Hall and quickly compared their class lists before Hermione dashed off to fulfill her Head Girl duties by assisting some of the younger students.  Harry and Ron had Charms first thing and they headed off telling Hermione that they would meet her there.

 

Because she had to go directly from Charms to Transfiguration to the Astronomy Tower and had also told two second years that she'd help them between classes with understanding their schedule, she was loaded down.  Her rucksack held several books, in addition she had her class schedule, several class syllabuses, a large astronomy map, and spare parchment all in her hands as he rushed through the corridors.  As luck would have it, a very large fifth year boy was walking backwards while talking to friends and ran right into her.  The rucksack flew off her shoulder and the papers scattered everywhere.

 

"Sorry," was the only reply from the fifth year as he returned to his conversation.  Hermione began trying to collect her things when a hand reached out, holding all of her loose parchment.

 

"Thanks," she offered, taking the papers while still pushing the books back in her bag.

 

"No problem," came the reply.  She was floored when a quick glance up, searching for the source of this anonymous help, revealed Draco Malfoy rising and turning to walk away.  She sat there, her mouth open, trying to confirm that her eyes had not deceived her.  Maybe it was someone else.  After all she only saw his profile and now his back as he passed between two professors, but he turned to the side once more and she was sure it was him.

 

"Ms. Granger, is everything alright?"  Professor Sinistra asked as she pulled her rucksack back onto her shoulder.  

 

"Yes, Professor.  Thank you."

 

Now she was forced to run to get to class on time.  Dashing into the Charms classroom, panting, she dropped her sack and slid into the desk behind Ron and Harry.

 

Ron quickly turned around, noting her flushed expression and shortness of breath.  "You ok, ‘Mione?"  She quickly retrieved her Charms book and found a quill.

 

"Fine, but I have to tell you something."  Just then Professor Flitwick called the class's attention to the front and Ron turned back around for the duration of the period.

 

Heading to Transfiguration an hour later, Hermione relayed what had happened in the hall.  Ron didn't say much, but had a concerned expression on his face, whereas Harry was obviously upset and started muttering things under his breath as they walked.

 

"Harry, as Head Girl, I'm one of the people responsible for making sure he is following the terms of his probation while at Hogwarts.  So, I'll know if he's out of line."

 

"It doesn't matter.  He shouldn't be here in the first place and I don't trust him.  He could have slipped something in with your parchment before."  

 

"Harry's right, Hermione.  I never thought of that.  Maybe you had better let me look through your things."

 

"Ronald, I am capable of doing that myself and no, he did not ‘slip' anything in with my papers, Harry.  I have no idea why, for probably the first time in his life, that he decided to be helpful to another human being."

 

"Other than to another Death Eater you mean," Ron interjected.

 

Hermione just tilted her head and gave him a pointed look.  "Anyway, I'll be on him like glue this term."

 

"I will, too."  Ron was a prefect as well and as a seventh year, he was also charged with keeping tabs on Draco.

 

As they entered their classroom, Harry stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Draco sitting in the third row of seats.  Ron almost ran into the back of Harry before he noticed their visual exchange and quickly stepped in front of his best mate to walk with Hermione to a row of seats in the back.

 

Professor McGonagall walked in to see Harry standing stock still at the front of the class, his hand near his pocket, eyes fixed on Draco who was looking very much on alert.

 

"Mr. Potter.  Is there a problem?"

 

"I will not sit in the same classroom with that traitor."  Harry's eyes never left Draco's as the rest of the classroom grew deathly quiet.

 

"Well, as Mr. Malfoy is required to be in all of his classes, he will be staying.  Now, I do believe that you need this class as well if you wish to continue with your career aspirations.  So, I would recommend that you both, "she looked from Harry to Draco, pulling Draco's attention away from Harry for a moment, "adjust to being in the same room together."

 

"I don't want him sitting behind me," Draco insisted as his eyes had moved back to Harry.  

 

"I'm not sitting in front of him either!" Harry shot back, taking a step closer and Draco drew his wand and stood.

 

McGonagall quickly took control, placing herself between them.  "Very well, gentlemen.  I have never been forced to do this before, but Mr. Weasley, please exchange places with Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Abbott, please move forward so that Mr. Potter may have your seat.  These will be your assigned seats for the time being until we determine if you can all learn to get along."

 

Ron looked to Hermione, grabbing her hand under the table.  This would place Draco right next to her and he would be three rows up.

 

"But, Professor"  Ron began to complain before he was cut off.

 

"Ms. Granger, do you have a problem with Mr. Malfoy sitting next to you?"

 

Hermione looked back to Harry and then to Ron, seeing his concerned expression.  She squeezed his hand as if to assure him that she was alright.  "No, Professor."

 

"Mr. Malfoy, do you have a problem sitting next to Ms. Granger?"

 

"No, Ma'am."  His eyes were still fixed on Harry, watching for any sign of aggression.

 

"Very well.  Now you will both be in the same row and if you'll please take your seats we can get on with class."

 

Despite their nervousness, the students shuffled their seats and class went on without incident.  In fact, over the next week, Draco never spoke to Ron or Harry, but he did begin to exchange small, emotionless, but polite greetings with Hermione and once he actually accepted her help during class.


	5. Chapter 5 - Proof and Consequences

**Chapter 5 - Proof and Consequences**

 

Three weeks into term, Draco was sitting in the library, one table over from Hermione who was apparently hard at work. He knew she was also doing guard duty, if you could call it that. Madam Pince and her were required to have him in visual range at all times. In fact, Hermione had been inspecting Draco regularly for verification of his identity and once he heard she came to search his dorm room. He wasn't present at the time so, it wasn't too uncomfortable; however, knowing she had rummaged through his belongings was unsettling. Draco internally applauded his remarkable restraint for not once having called her one of his favorite filthy names, nor spoken down to her, nor threatened her. 

 

Draco sat at his small library table, quill in hand, attempting to work on a Potion's essay. He noticed her turn the page of her book and then she looked right at him before returning to her reading. Draco started twirling his quill as he recalled the events of the previous night.

 

_Draco sat at a table, book open in front of him. It was 6:02pm and he was in his House as required. He saw the Head couple enter the Slytherin Common room and he lay down his quill. The past two weeks they had simply seen him and left, but not tonight._

_Zacharias stood with his back to the wall, ensuring no one could come up behind them, his wand drawn but hanging at his side as Hermione took the lead._

_"Draco Malfoy, please stand." She had moved into the center of the room, her wand out as well._

_Draco pushed the chair back and rose slowly as requested, his eyes flashing from her face to her wand hand and back. Surely she wouldn't do anything with the entire Slytherin student body present, but he was still anxious._

_"Come forward," she instructed and Draco stepped forward, placing himself directly in front of her._

_"Please remove your robes." This brought some raised eyebrows from most of the students._

_"May I ask why?" Draco replied, cocking his head slightly to the side. However, instead of getting a reply, he noted the look on Hermione's face that indicated unless he wanted her to expound on the terms of his probation, he should probably just do as he was told. It still irked him to no end that he had to follow any of her instructions and yet, he was somewhat intrigued by her request. What did she have in mind? She might be a mudblood and he was raised to clearly detest any of her kind, but he also found that she had been polite and almost helpful to him over the past week._

_Without another word, he unclasped his long black robes, pulled his arms out and as she gestured to the sofa, he draped them over the back. He stood in his regular clothes, certain that their high quality - finely tailored black pleated trousers, a dark green button down shirt and black Italian-made belt - would make an impression on her. He raised his arms as if to say, ‘well, what next?' as she ran her wand over his cloak._

_After her initial examination, she lifted the cloak from the sofa and handed it back to Zach who proceeded to run his wand over it as well and to search the pockets and examine the clasp rather closely._

_Draco allowed his hands to drop to his sides as Hermione took another step closer to him._

_"Turn around, please." She was looking him over from head to toe and he felt like he was being put on display. This was interesting. He actually didn't feel all that threatened, more like she was checking him out and he glanced over his shoulder as he turned, curious as to whether or not she was looking at his bum. He knew he was a specimen of male refinement, he was lean and muscular, impeccably dressed and somewhat tall. Most women had admired his appearance, but never Granger. He would more expect her to hex him and then spit on his remains than to admire anything about him. She couldn't be, could she? No, this was all business. "Stop." She commanded when his back was facing her and he felt a strange warm sensation up his spine as her wand moved very closely over his clothing, then down his legs and back up the other side._

_The next sensation sent goose bumps down his back and his body automatically jerked as he inhaled a sharp breath. Her hand was on his neck. It reached around the inside of his collar for a brief moment and then ran down his back. To everyone else, it appeared as if he was being patted down by an Auror, but it didn't feel that way. She stopped at his waist just as he heard another voice interject "I'll take it from here, Hermione."_

_Zach had stepped up to continue the pat down, going over his hips and legs before he heard her instruct him to turn back around. She had taken a couple of steps back and was holding his cloak as Zach continued to pat his chest and arms. Draco kept his gaze planted firmly on Hermione's face, trying to ignore the humiliation of the entire scene and instead concentrate on the sensations he had just experienced from her hand on his neck._

_As if the meaning of this visit had finally sunk in to their diminished brains, Crabbe and Goyle stood as if to interrupt the proceedings. Zach noticed their movement and turned, wand pointed at their chests as he stepped up to them. Hermione handed Draco back his robes._

_"Unless you want to have a very uncomfortable evening, I suggest you sit back down." Luckily, Zach was several inches taller than both of the buffoons and had a stern mannerism that stopped them both in their tracks._

_Draco was still staring at Hermione as he finally spoke. "Are you satisfied?"_

_She glanced down his form and back up before saying, "Quite." Again, he had the distinct impression that she was checking him out and quite without warning he sensed a flush running through his system, but he took a deep breath and stepped back, putting his robes back on. Zach turned to leave the room, Crabbe and Goyle having returned to their seats, and Hermione began to exit with her wand drawn. As Zach reached the door, he waited for her._

_"Our apologies for the interruption," she stated to the rest of the students in the room and then stepped swiftly through the entrance way with Zach behind her._

 

A noise snapped him out of his reminiscence and he looked over to see Hermione making frustrated sounds as she dug through her rucksack. Without really thinking, he spoke up.

 

"What's the matter, Granger?"

 

"It's not your concern, Mr. Malfoy." She continued digging and it was then that Draco realized her ink bottle looked empty.

 

"You know, you can call me Draco. Mr. Malfoy is my father." A moment later, a bottle of ink appeared in front of her on the table. "And I am not him."

 

Draco had moved to her table and she seemed stunned to look up and find him standing in front of her, his pack over his shoulder.

 

"I have to return to my common room, it's ten of six." Draco recognized that he had left her torn between accepting his offer or leaving the library to retrieve more ink. This little gesture truly didn't feel like all that big of a deal to him but he hoped it would mean something to her as he spun around to exit the room.

 

"Mal....Draco." He turned back around.

 

"I'll return this tomorrow."

 

"Consider it a gift."

 

"A what?"

 

"A gift. You know, I do give gifts to people. You may not be my favorite person, but it's only a half-full bottle of ink. It's not like I'm giving you diamonds or something."

 

"Well, of course not."

 

"Then, you accept?"

 

She nodded and he turned, resuming his exit. "Thank you.....Draco." He only nodded, without turning back around as he left the library.

*** 

 

A couple of weeks later, everyone had pretty much settled into a routine. Due to decreased enrollment at the school this year and with all the threats of Death Eater attacks, the Quidditch season had been cut back severely. McGonagall didn't feel she could guarantee the safety of the students out on the Quidditch pitch. Instead, scrimmages were allowed between the teams, but no real games and only limited numbers of students could attend, with teacher supervision. Ron told Harry of his disappointment, but Harry convinced him that it was probably for the best because they would be gone so much anyway. They remained on the team in an official capacity but several other students were playing in reserve and would fill in, were Harry and Ron absent. 

 

Harry had started spending more time in the library researching horcruxes and less time on his homework. At first Hermione seemed a bit bothered by this development, but then she began to assist him, finally admitting to him that some things were more important than schoolwork. Most nights they would find some time to discuss their latest discoveries after everyone had gone to bed.

 

On the evenings when Ginny was present, they tried to just concentrate on homework and not discuss any of their ‘extra-curricular activities.' Hermione argued with him that they should include her, but he had been adamant that she not participate.

 

When Ginny did join them, he made a point of sitting separately for he knew it was too tempting to sit near her. One particular evening, he was engrossed in his research while Hermione sat curled up in a chair reading, Ron sitting at a table beside her working on his essay. He had just come across a very interesting section on the background of the founders and his heart picked up speed as he suddenly snapped the cover shut on his book, drawing their attention.

 

"Hey, I think I've found something." However, before he could say another word, Ginny entered the room, noticeably limping toward them. 

 

"What's the matter, sis?"

 

She dropped her bag and was attempting to sit down in the only available seat, coincidentally right next to Harry, but her knee seemed to buckle beneath her and she fell forward right into Harry's lap. He let out a breath of air as she landed on top of him.

 

"Oh, sorry. I'm sorry," she offered, pushing herself back.

 

"It's alright, Gin. What happened to your leg?"

 

Harry witnessed her wince as she attempted to lift herself and she reached down to her knee.

 

Harry had no real choice but to grasp her around the waist as she squirmed to upright herself. "Hold on. What is it, your knee?"

 

"Yeah. Damn moving staircase got me just as I took the first step, it shifted and my knee went one way and my foot the other and it caught between the edge of the step and the wall."

 

Ron was pushing the chair back as Harry gingerly slid out from underneath her, allowing her to take up the full seat on the sofa. He conjured some ice and a towel, and held it to her knee. She grimmaced at the cold as Ron approached. 

 

"Geez, sis. Be more careful next time." Ron made a sucking noise upon seeing the bruise and immediately turned to their other friend. "Hermione? You know a good healing spell?"

 

Hermione had already snapped to action, moving in front of Ginny.

 

"Harry, move over."

 

He did as instructed, inadvertently brushing his hand down her leg as he did. Ginny drew another quick breath through her teeth. He looked up at her and flushed at the contact even though he knew it was purely innocent and saw Ron notice his reaction. 

 

"Sorry, Gin."

 

With a wave of her wand, Hermione performed a quick anti-inflammation spell.

 

"Any better?" she asked. Ginny raised her skirt so that they could see her injury more clearly. It had a large purple bruise, but the swelling was going down considerably. Harry's eyes were riveted on the large expanse of leg he was viewing at that moment. 

 

"Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked her and Harry noticed his eyes shift from Ginny to him and back again. Hermione seemed occupied with her examination and didn't notice this exchange.

 

"Um..no, it's just a bruise and a little scrape after all. I'll just keep the ice on it for now and I'm sure it'll be fine by tomorrow. Thanks, Hermione."

 

"You're welcome, Ginny."

 

Ron suddenly released a large, somewhat obvious yawn, something Harry found a bit suspicious.

 

"Well, I'm going to bed then. Quiz tomorrow in potions." This seemed to jar Hermione from her examination of Ginny's knee. Harry knew that mentioning the quiz would prompt her to head off to bed as well and he considered Ron's actions.

 

"I'm going up, too. You coming, Gin?" Hermione gathered her books.

 

"I think I'll just let the ice sit on this for a while first. I don't think I want to climb the stairs right now."

 

"Harry?" Ron was walking toward the steps.

 

"Um, I'll be up in just a bit."

 

"OK, well, goodnight then."

 

Two other students were heading up at the same time and the room became very quiet. Harry had stepped back and was putting his books away while Ginny sat holding the ice on her knee. She moved to shift herself back onto the sofa more so she could rest her leg, but let out a small gasp as she moved.

 

Harry heard this and turned. "Need some help?" Eyes squeezed shut, she shook her head. Harry assumed she was waiting for the pain to subside.

 

Returning to his packing, his back to her, he tried to appear busy, he couldn't help but wonder if she was looking at his messy, black hair and reminiscing about the times in the spring when she had enjoyed running her hands through it. She had told him that she enjoyed the sounds she could elicit by stroking his soft hair gently through her fingers. He certainly enjoyed it. 

 

Harry was well aware of the fact that he had grown and his shoulders appeared wider these days, taking away the impression of lankiness and instead portraying a much more manly physique. Sensing her gaze, he turned back to grab another book and Ginny quickly snapped her head away to avoid capture in what could only be called a lustful stare. She appeared flustered and bent down to adjust the papers that had slipped loose in her rucksack when the ice pack slipped and hit the floor.

 

Harry heard this and picked it back up, placing it back on her knee making her cringe again at both the cold and the pain. Her hand reached down in a reactionary mode and landed directly on top of his. With wide eyes, he glanced down at her hand resting atop his just as she made to withdraw it, but he reached over and touched it, mixing his heat with the cold ice.

 

"I've got it." Harry offered.

 

He studied her for a moment and she returned the gaze, something they hadn't done in weeks. Desperately trying to distance himself from her, every encounter had been polite and even friendly. Not once since August had they been alone together and that ache, that feeling of longing returned at once to Harry's heart. She slowly pulled her hand free of his and slid it up his arm, past his shoulder and one finger lovingly stroked his cheek.

 

He couldn't help but smile as he looked away, focusing back on her bruised knee cap. Somehow his instincts just took over and he bent down and placed a kiss just above her knee. Afterwards, he suddenly felt awkward, wondering why he had kissed her leg, but something about it just felt right. He could picture a scene in his head of a mother kissing the wound to make it better and he somehow thought this would provide some measure of comfort. Before he had even pulled all the way back, he felt Ginny's hand in his hair and he closed his eyes at the contact.

 

A wave of warmth flowed through him, starting in his neck and traveling down to his stomach. It felt so good he was tingling all over and he felt his body moving closer to her, his hand lazily sliding up her arm, the other still holding the ice. Soon her hand was firmly grasping his neck and pulling him toward her lips.

 

They were warm and soft. Memories of the previous spring came rushing back to him, of them sitting by the lake, snogging on a blanket in the sunshine. His mouth parted for her tongue as it brushed his lower lip, reflexively forcing his hand to shift the ice on her knee in response. She sucked in a breath and withdrew from their intimate contact. Harry wasn't sure if he had hurt her and he stopped to get confirmation.

 

She didn't appear to be in pain, her eyes were communicating something else. They were dark and wide and she was breathing a bit heavier. It was desire. Harry knew it because he was feeling it, too. He wanted to move forward. His brain had stopped listening to the reasons for keeping them apart and something else was taking over. Leaning down, he captured her mouth in another kiss, this one deeper than the previous, really tasting her for the first time in months. She was minty and chocolate and something else, but whatever it was, it tasted fantastic as his hand slipped into her hair. Being careful not to move the hand on her leg, he dared move his lips to her ear.

 

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I want to be with you. Being apart from you is tearing me up inside." It came out breathy, low and hot and Ginny let out a soft moan upon hearing those words. A slow fire was traveling through his stomach when he felt a firm grasp on his wrist, snapping him out of his lust induced haze.

 

Blinking twice, he paused. "Is something wrong?"

 

"Harry." Her eyes were wide and hot with desire, too and Harry wondered what she would say next.

 

"I want to be with you, too." She released her grip on his hand and he pulled it back.

 

There was a gripping silence for a moment, neither one daring to speak and each one recognizing their inescapable predicament.

 

"Harry, what are we going to do?"

 

It was obvious what she meant. They were trying to stay apart, but it was evident that they both retained such strong feelings for each other. It was going to be impossible for them to just be friends. They both wanted more.

 

"I don't know, Gin. I just want you safe and right now I'm a dangerous person to be around." Backing away, he stood up, carefully releasing the ice. "I'm really sorry. I-I shouldn't have done that." He paused, running his hands over the tops of his thighs trying to return the scene to one of friendly companionship. "Um...can you get up the stairs to your dorm on your own?"

 

It appeared that Ginny wanted to continue the discussion about their relationship, but after noting Harry's change in demeanor, she swung her leg around and tried to stand up. Limping a few steps, Harry waited until she looked at him and he took that as his cue to help. Suspecting she more wanted him close than actually needing assistance, he slipped an arm around her waist and walked with her over to the stairs. 

 

"Are you sure you can manage the steps? I mean, I can't go up without setting off alarms, but I could find someone to help you."

 

"No, I'll manage. Thanks for the help." She hopped over to grab the wall for support and began her ascent. "Goodnight, Harry." He watched her slowly limp up the stairs.

 

"'night Gin."

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - His First Mission**

 

October arrived bright and sunny.  It was staying unusually warm this year, convincing most that it meant they'd have a horrible winter.  Two weeks into the month, Harry and Ron slipped away for a couple of days to investigate the possible location of one of the horcruxes, but returned empty handed.  True to her word, McGonagall didn't say a thing when they missed classes for two days.  Hermione just told the few people who asked that Ron's great aunt had passed away and he had to attend the funeral and Harry accompanied him.

 

Meanwhile, Hermione continued with her classes and her monitoring of Draco Malfoy's whereabouts.  She made one surprise inspection of his dorm room, with Zach by her side, but she was told by the headmistress to keep doing them and to vary the times.  So, she was planning another one for the next day, which happened to be the Saturday of the first Hogsmeade weekend and the day before Halloween.

 

Harry, Ron and Ginny all asked her to go with them to Hogsmeade that morning and at first she said no, wanting to get this inspection done and concentrate on her studies.  However, Ron begged her to come and even wrote her a very lovely note saying how it just wouldn't be the same without her.  There were going to be some special Halloween activities starting at eight o'clock in the morning and so she decided to do her inspection very early so that she'd be ready to leave on time.  Zach was to meet her at six thirty and McGonagall had provided an entry password for them.  Draco only had two dorm-mates as the sleeping arrangements had been shuffled to prevent Draco's interaction with Crabbe and Goyle.  Draco was now rooming with Blaise Zabini and the headmistress had even taken the unprecedented move of placing a sixth year boy in the room with them simply because she knew this boy and his family and believed he'd stay out of everyone's business.

 

Rising early, Hermione showered and dressed quickly, throwing on her denims, a pink jumper and her trainers.  She navigated the corridors down to the dungeons and waited for Zach.  Six thirty came and went, but Zach didn't show up.  Hermione considered going back to find him, but realized she was running out of time and decided to just go it alone.  After all, it was just the three boys and they'd probably all still be in bed.  She was capable enough.  Calling out the password, she quietly entered the Slytherin common room, walking softly both for safety reasons and to ensure she didn't disturb the sleeping students.  The room was empty and she started up the steps to the boys' dormitories, wand at the ready.  On the way up, she planned her entrance, first a silencing spell on the room, locking spell on the door.  She would shield the other two beds and then wake Draco.  How to wake him was the question.  Should she surprise him or try to be subtle?  What if he was already awake?  What if he was in the showers?

 

_Okay, so, if he's awake, just lock the door with your wand raised and announce the inspection._   If he was in the shower, then she could just do the inspection while he was gone.  That sounded like a plan and her feet picked up the pace, climbing the last two steps.  She debated on whether or not to knock and finally decided the element of surprise was better and tried the knob.  Surprisingly, it was unlocked and, gratefully, didn't squeak when she walked in.  To her great relief, she discovered Blaise's bed empty and the sixth year boy was asleep, as was Draco.

 

A flick of her wrist sent the silencing and locking charms up and another one shielded the other bed.  The curtains on Draco's bed were opened slightly, enough for her to see him lying on his back, breathing in a steady, even rhythm.  Her eyes couldn't help but notice that he slept without a shirt and the blankets were bunched up around his waist revealing a very toned set of abdominal muscles.  It was a bit on the warmer side so, he probably wouldn't get cold, but she felt uneasy seeing him like this.  He actually looked very peaceful and his features much softer when he was sleeping, his blond hair spread out on the pillow.

 

Hermione held her wand tightly and reached out to touch his arm.  She gave him a little shake and then stepped back, not sure if he was a light sleeper or not.  He made a small noise, brushing his arm as if something tickled and rolled onto his side, his back now facing her.  _His back is really nice, too._ This thought startled her and she got back to business.  This time she pushed him a little harder and spoke in a loud whisper.

 

"Draco.  Get up!  Surprise inspection."  She again stepped back just to be safe and this time he rolled back over and his eyes opened, the piercing gray steel looking directly at her.  It only took a second for his expression to change to shock when he realized who was standing before him.

 

"Granger!  What the hell are you doing here?"  He sat up, his pajama clad legs falling over the side of the bed.

 

"Surprise inspection."  She was a bit nervous and still holding her wand in front of her.

 

"At six thirty in the morning?"  He yawned.  "You're a real glutton for punishment, aren't you Granger.  And can you please lower your wand a bit?  I don't relish getting hexed in my pajamas."

 

"Well, I don't ‘relish' doing this inspection, so, let's get it over with so we can get on with our day."  She noted his wand, lying on the bedside table.

 

"Fine, fine."  He got up and started to open his trunk.

 

"Wait a minute.  Don't touch the trunk."  Hermione had taken a step forward and was aiming her wand at him as he bent over the lid.

 

"I was just going to grab a shirt, unless you prefer I stand here half naked while you do this."

 

"Don't flatter yourself.  I've seen half naked men before and I'm sure I can do this inspection without you dressing first.  Now, sit down in the chair at the desk."

 

"Wait a minute.  Are you alone?"

 

Hermione's swift reaction forced Draco to raise his hands, showing his surrender and he sat in the chair.  Without further delay, she snatched his wand and slipped it into her pocket.   Her inspection started with a search through his bedding, then under his bed and through his bedside table, keeping one eye on him at all times.

 

"I'd better not find anything disgusting in here."  She was now sorting through a stack of parchment, scanning the print for anything that might be suspicious.

 

"Disgusting how?"  He placed his raised arms above his head and clasped his hands together behind his neck.  His subtle smirk seemed to indicate that he was actually enjoying the banter during these little inspections.

 

"Never mind."  She searched through his trunk, moving items around cautiously.

 

"It's just my boxers.  They are clean by the way and no, I'm not hiding any instruments of destruction in my underwear drawer."

 

"I do have to admit, you are at least very neat."  She stood up, finished with his trunk and ready to perform her usual charm that tested for the existence of Polyjuice potion in him.  "Please stand."

 

Draco did as requested, studying her face with interest as she ran the wand up and down his bare chest, the wand giving off a faint heat that he reacted to immediately.  She appeared all business, even as he stood there in just his pajama pants.  Taking a step back, she glanced around the room one last time and was prepared to leave.

 

"Satisfied?" he asked again, the usual question he would pose every time she finished one of her inspections.

 

She was in the habit of answering with ‘quite' but this time there was this nagging question that just begged to be asked.

 

"Look, I just need to know what is going on?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You're just not the same Draco that I've known for seven years.  Why haven't you once called me a mudblood or threatened me with something horrible?  It's not you and don't tell me you've turned over a new leaf.  I'm just not buying it."

 

Draco took a cautionary step forward, but Hermione held her stance.

 

"Well, if you're not going to buy the truth, then I don't know what to tell you."

 

He advanced again, slowly and she stepped back.

 

"Oh, sure, you've just decided to stop being the despicable character you've always been and become Mr. Nice Guy now?"

 

Her wand was still raised, but she was almost nearing the door and he was getting too close for her comfort.  Maybe it was his non-threatening posture, but the part of her that told her to be ready with a hex was being restrained and allowing him to continue.

 

"Now, Ms. Granger, that's not a very nice thing to call someone."  His head cocked to the side as he took another step toward her, placing him just a foot away.  "True, I've done and said some unsavory things in the past, but I wouldn't say that makes me despicable."

 

She was so frozen, partially in fear, but more so by his close proximity, that she didn't notice his hand move up and take her wrist.  She gasped as panic hit her and she was about to click into fight or flight mode, but his words were soft as he moved her wand hand cautiously to the side and leaned his head in even closer.  Instinctively, she raised her other hand, about to push him away, but the thought of touching his bare chest made her withdraw it into a fist.  A fist which Draco covered with his other hand.

 

"I'm sorry for the things I've called you in the past.  They were indeed despicable, but I was immature and ill informed.  I hope you will accept my apology."

 

She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke this last sentence and then, after studying her eyes for a few seconds, he simply released her wrist and took two large steps back, folding his arms across his chest.

 

A few seconds passed until Hermione could regain her composure.  She wasn't sure if she was frightened or aroused by this confrontation.  Clearing her throat, she lifted the spells on the neighboring bed, the door and the room and reached behind her to open the door.  Draco just continued to stare at her.

 

Removing his wand from her pocket, she placed it on the end of his bed.  "I'll report that you had a satisfactory inspection."  He nodded his thanks to her and she opened the door and left, running down the steps with all haste and exiting into the corridor again.  Her heart was pounding and hand shaking as she replaced her wand on her way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

 

She immediately spied Harry, Ron and Ginny at the table and took a seat next to Ron as they all continued to eat.  When she didn't take any food or say anything, the other three all looked at each other before Ron finally spoke.

 

"Hermione, is something wrong?"  He sat with his fork in mid-air as he watched her expression.  "Hermione?"  He placed a hand on her arm and must have noticed that she was trembling.  His voice dropped a bit lower.  "What's the matter?"

 

"Do...do you think it's possible that....that Draco has really changed?"  She reached for the pumpkin juice, her hand still trembling as she lifted the pitcher and tried to pour a glass.

 

"Hell, no," was Ron's prompt response.  "He's always been a lousy git and he will remain one until the day he dies, which can't be soon enough."

 

Ginny rolled her eyes at this comment, looking to Harry for his response which he gave quickly.  "Hermione, why do you ask?"

 

"I get this feeling that he's actually made a change.  I mean, he hasn't called me a mudblood since the start of term.  No threats, no nasty comments."

 

"Maybe to you, but he's still the same creep to the rest of us."  Ron was shoveling in another mouthful of eggs.

 

"No, he isn't" Hermione continued.  "I haven't seen him say anything derogatory to either of you.  Don't you think it's odd?"

 

Ron swallowed before his reply.  "Well, maybe he hasn't said anything directly to us, but it's implied.  Maybe not to you, but I've definitely sensed it."  Harry was finishing his juice, when Ron dropped his fork.

 

"Wait a minute!  Why are you defending him?"

 

"Well, he's polite and....and well, he apologized to me."

 

"He what?  Apologized?  For what?  For being a death eating, curse throwing, pure-blooded GIT?!"

 

"Ron, please lower your voice.  He seemed very sincere."

 

"When did this happen?"  Harry asked.

 

Hermione distractedly answered "Um, in his dorm room this morning."

 

That was obviously the wrong thing to say because Ron almost jumped from the bench.  "WHAT?"  Hermione flinched as the bench scraped the floor beneath her.  Ron was now standing.  "You were in his dorm room this morning?!"

 

"Ronald, please.  Keep your voice down."

 

"What the hell is going on here, Hermione?"

 

"Nothing!  I just went to do a surprise inspection."

 

"Please don't tell me you were by yourself."

 

"Yes, I was by myself."  His tone was infuriating her as she placed her hands on her hips.

 

"What were you thinking?!  You don't just walk into the Slytherin boys dorm unannounced, by yourself!  ARE YOU INSANE?"

 

Hermione rose to her feet as well.  "I'm perfectly capable of performing an inspection on my own.  He was asleep anyway.  Not like he was waiting to jump out at me.  I don't think he hides his wand in his pajama bottoms!"  
  


Harry and Ginny both cringed at that statement as they seemed to understand it was going to set Ron off even more.  

 

Both jumped up, Harry trying to grab Ron and Ginny moving to take Hermione.  Ushering them out of the room, the intermediaries attempted to drag them away from the prying eyes of the other thirty or more students who had started witnessing what was fast becoming a spectacular row.

 

Ron yanked his arm away from Harry and marched out into the entrance way to the castle.  Hermione looked puzzled, but followed Ginny out there as well.  Harry was trying to calm Ron down, but as soon as Hermione walked through the doors, he started back in again.

 

"So, he's there in his pajama bottoms, huh?  What happened next, after he apologized?"

 

She didn't answer for a moment, thinking back to how Draco had actually been leaning in to her, speaking in that soft, low voice.  It almost made her shiver and she placed her hand over her mouth.

 

Ron must have sensed her hesitation and noting the look on her face and her current gesture, seemed to provide his own answer to the question.  "Did he kiss you?"

 

Hermione hadn't considered that Draco had actually been close enough to do just that, if he had wanted to and for a split second she almost thought that he did.  This revelation sent her thoughts spiraling into several different scenarios.  So much so that she didn't realize her lack of response was appearing as an admission of guilt to Ron.

 

"DAMMIT HERMIONE!"  Hermione jumped and Ron turned and paced around the hall.  "Dammit, dammit all to hell."  Spinning around, he took two giant strides and pointed a finger at her.  "How could you...?  Did he try to take advantage of you?"

 

As if this idea just struck her, she stuttered "I-I'm not sure."  Hermione had this picture in her head of Draco holding her hand and leaning in, his breath ghosting over her face.  _Was he trying to seduce me?_  The more she thought about it, the more flustered and confused she felt.

 

"Why didn't you take Zach along with you?  Or me?  I'm a Prefect.  You could have asked me to come along, you know?  I would have made damn sure he never..."  

 

Hermione started to shake her head very subtly.  Not in reply to Ron's question, but attempting to answer her own thoughts.  _No, he couldn't have been thinking that_.

 

Ron noticed and his countenance changed.  He dropped his hand and took a quick step back as if he had just been slapped with the truth and was still stinging from the reality of it all.  "Wait a minute, you didn't want me to come along did you?  You wanted some alone time with him."

 

Hermione finally snapped out of her thoughts at his last statement.  "RONALD!  I can't believe you!  How could you think such a thing?"

 

The look of rage on Ron's face began to transform.  Hermione knew of his jealous streak, but this was more a look of pain or bewilderment.  He scanned her eyes, seemingly asking for some hint of direction.  

 

She appeared ready to continue her argument, but he cut her off.

 

"I see.  Fine.  I really thought that I meant something to you."

 

"You do!"  She tried to respond, but Ron rambled on, getting more emotional as he did.

 

"I thought that our friendship was becoming a bit more, but obviously I was wrong."  He ran a quick hand through his hair, turning away, as if unable to face the pain that was building within in.  "I haven't meant anything to you, have I?"  

 

Once more, she tried to interject.  "Ron..."

 

With red eyes, he seemed to burst, his pain speaking and not his head.  "I just can't believe that you'd go slutting around with Captain Death Eater!"

 

"I'd WHAT?  What did you call me?!"

 

"Never mind.  You just go ahead and enjoy your little ‘inspections' all you want.  I have to get out of here."  Bolting down the steps, his legs carried him swiftly from the castle.  Hermione was left there in stunned silence, her mouth hanging open.

 

"I'd better go after him."  Harry spoke up and started out the doors while Ginny stayed back, placing an arm around Hermione's shoulder.

 

"Ginny, what just happened?"  A single tear began to slip down her cheek, her mind still reeling in confusion over what exactly had happened with Draco and Ron's tirade.     

 

"Did he just call me a..." Hermione couldn't say the word, as foul as it was, but Ginny seemed to understand and nodded her head.

 

"Hermione, I'm sure he didn't mean it.  Just give him some time to cool down.  Let's head back to the common room, okay?"  Ginny gestured down the passageway.  Hermione nodded and started to walk, her mind still in a numb haze trying to sort out her thoughts.  As she started to replay Ron's comments and the look on his face, she began to consider how he had felt.  First, his acknowledgement about their friendship meaning more to him really sunk in and she started to get this horrible feeling in her stomach.

 

After they had arrived back in the common room, Hermione's eyes had filled with more tears.  She excused herself and headed up to her dorm room, just wanting to be alone and think everything through.

 

Ginny came in to check on her a short while later, offering a gentle back rub and soft words.  The more Hermione went over it, the more upset she became considering that her actions may have given Ron the wrong idea.  The thought of losing him started to gnaw on her and soon those single tears had grown into a full waterfall and she finally fell asleep from the mental exhaustion of the whole incident.

 

*** 

 

It took a while for Harry to find Ron, who had made his way to the Quidditch Pitch and was sitting in the center, holding his head in his hands.  He approached slowly and sat down next to him.

 

"You going to be okay, mate?"

 

"I don't know."  Ron was still looking down at the grass which was now weathered and turning brown.

 

"You really fancy her, don't you?"

 

"I thought I knew her, Harry.  We've been friends for so long.  I just can't believe that she'd do something like that."

 

"Ron, I think you might be blowing this way out of proportion."

 

"Oh really?!  She kissed him!  I'd say that's a pretty big thing!"

 

"She never said she kissed him.  She just went do to an inspection."

 

"She never said she didn't either.  She would have denied it, if it wasn't true."

 

Ron was running his hands through his hair and finally tipped back and lay on the grass.  

 

"You know her better than that and besides, you shouldn't have called her a slut."

 

"Bugger all!  Yeah, I know.  I was just so angry and so..."

 

"So what?"

 

"Hurt.  Alright?  I was hurt.  Dammit, Harry, now what do I do?"

 

A foreign voice interrupted their conversation.  "Well, first of all Mr. Weasley, you need to come back into the castle."

 

Professor McGonagall was standing about ten feet away.  Ron sat up and Harry snapped around upon hearing her voice.

 

"Professor.  Um..um...I'm just, well...I mean."

 

"Mr. Weasley, I really don't care about the reason that I've found you lying in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, however, your presence is needed in my office immediately.  Mr. Potter, you may come along."

 

She turned, heading back up the hill toward the castle steps.  Harry and Ron looked at each other and got up to follow.  Once inside McGonagall's office, they came face to face with Ron's father and Remus Lupin.

 

"Dad!  What's wrong?  Did something happen?"

 

"Ronald, calm down.  No one is hurt.  I'm here to ask you to do something for the Order and for your brother."

 

"What?  Wait, which brother?"

 

"Why don't we all take a seat."  McGonagall motioned to all of them and Remus and Mr. Weasley moved to the chairs by her desk.  Harry and Ron continued to stand.

 

"Dad, what's going on?"

 

"Please, Ronald, sit."  Ron finally moved forward, grabbing the nearest chair and flipped it around.

 

"Ron, we need your help.  This is Order business and normally your Mother and I wouldn't want you involved, but in this case, you are the best person for the job and since it involves your brother, we need to make an exception."

 

Harry had moved up and was standing directly behind Ron, listening as Mr. Weasley continued.

 

"You see, Bill has been in Egypt working for Gringott's for quite a while and many of the people there know him, many not personally, but they know of the red-haired man with the pony tail and earring.  His reputation as a top curse breaker has put him in great demand.  He also has told us that people tell him he's very approachable and many local villagers come to him to share stories and thoughts on a regular basis.  It was through one of these encounters that he was given information regarding a very old curse."

 

Arthur paused for a moment before continuing.  "Bill thinks this curse might involve our family."

 

"What do you mean, a curse?"  Ron shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  Arthur swallowed a hard lump and Remus jumped in to continue.

 

"Ron, it seems that many years ago, a curse was placed on a man who had some connections to your ancestors.  It had something to do with an Egyptian Princess and Bill has been investigating this curse, making some very deep connections with some high officials.  He feels that this could have wide ranging implications for both our family and possibly for Harry as well."

 

"Me?  What does this have to do with me?"  Harry had moved around, closer to Remus.

 

"We're not sure yet, that's what Bill is looking into.  However, meanwhile, he's been contacted by Gringott's about a Death Eater faction that is trying to launder money through some phony businesses and they've threatened to cause Gringott's a lot of trouble unless Bill is willing to help them with a curse that was placed near their vault at the Egyptian branch."

 

"So?"

 

"Well, with your brother's reputation, they insist on having him assigned to their vault for the next month."

 

"So, what does this have to do with me?"  Ron was looking puzzled from Remus and back to his father again.

 

"Son, Bill simply can't be in two places at once.  He has some very good leads on this curse that need to be investigated, but the parties in question will only be available for a short period.  One of the villagers seems to be a wealth of information, but is very old and not expected to live long."

 

Ron still seemed lost as Arthur continued.  "We've tried maintaining a polyjuice'd Bill on one of the Order members for longer periods, but not only could the potion cause long term nerve damage, we can't ensure the imposter would have enough potion to last and would be able to sneak it in and make more if needed."

 

Remus jumped in to continue as Ron was now looking to Harry.  "Ron, we need you to impersonate Bill at the Gringott's vault for the next month.  Bill has to finish his investigation on this curse.  The connections he's made are very tight and these people won't work with anyone else.  You look very similar to your brother and you know his mannerisms.  You're almost the same height and weight.  You also have personal history that you know of and you can draw from it.  These people know about your brother and your family.  Sending someone else in from the outside could ....well, if they found out that it wasn't Bill, things could get very nasty."

 

"Wait, wait, wait.  You want me to go to Egypt and pretend to be Bill, while trying to break a curse on a vault at Gringott's while working for Death Eaters?!"

 

McGonagall finally spoke up.  "It's a Death Eater faction.  These aren't actual Death Eaters, but they are supporters of the cause and there is obviously something in that vault of importance that they need.  We don't actually want you to break the curse.  We just need you to play the part of Bill ‘trying' to break the curse until the real Bill can finish and come to replace you.  Then, we'll have him break the actual curse and a squad of Aurors or Order members will storm the vault."

 

"What if they find out I'm not Bill?"

 

"Well, son, we're trusting you to be a good actor, aren't we?  We can grow your hair a bit, give you a matching earring and you should be all set.  Remus can show you some spells that will give the impression that you are working on this curse and making headway."

 

Ron stood up and started to pace around the room.  "Um...when do I need to do this?"

 

Remus looked to Arthur before speaking.  "Soon Ron.  We need you to leave tonight."

 

"Tonight?"

 

"Bill's in deep and can't get away and Gringott's is on a deadline for midnight.  Either Bill shows up by tomorrow at noon or everything goes to hell."

 

Ron looked at Harry for a moment, not sure what to say or do.  This was all too overwhelming.  He was being asked to perform a service for the Order and a covert and dangerous one at that.  Meanwhile, his brother was trying to lift a curse from his own family.  He was terrified and excited and honored all at the same time.

 

Harry seemed to sense his feelings and started to fire off his own questions.  "Will he have some kind of support system?  I mean, who's there to help him if he needs it?  Can he contact us somehow?"

 

"There are undercover Aurors stationed both at the bank and in the hotel where he will be staying.  They can get word to and from him, if necessary.  Tonks is also going in to try and help Bill and she will be available to both of you, if you need her."

 

Remus was now standing and walked over, placing a hand on Ron's back.

 

"We're sorry to ask you to do this.  Your family is very hesitant to send you, but they've agreed.  You look very similar to Bill.  Your other siblings can't pull this off and they know it.  We've searched for another way to handle this, but we're simply out of time."

 

The room was very quiet as Ron's eyes moved from person to person in the room, looking for some kind of assurance and strength.  He had to go.  His brother and his family needed him.

 

"When do I leave?"

 

"Right away.  You'll need to pack some clothes.  Make sure you have no belongings with you that have your name on them.  No personal items that would point to you not being Bill.  No photographs or diaries or anything like that.  You need to be back here by noon."  Remus was directing him toward the door as they spoke.

 

Harry was a bit stunned.  He didn't really know what to say.  His best mate was about to go off to Egypt for a month or more, doing something very dangerous and he couldn't go along to help.  He walked behind him, trying to figure out any other pertinent questions to ask, but nothing came to mind.  They left McGonagall's office, walking back to the dorms and Harry helped Ron pack.

 

It was 11:45am before they finally finished and started to head back down the steps, when Ron stopped, looking up the girls staircase.  "I have to talk to Hermione before I go."  

 

"Um..mate..I don't know how.  Everyone is in Hogsmeade today and there aren't any girls around to go and get her.  I don't even know where Ginny is."

 

"Maybe Professor McGonagall can get her for me.  Come on."  They moved quickly through the castle back to the office and Ron asked the Professor to please get Hermione quickly for him.  The portkey was set to go off at noon sharp and there was only five minutes remaining.  McGonagall left, moving quickly to the dorm room, knocking on Hermione's door.  Ginny opened the door, surprised to see the Headmistress standing before her.

 

"Ms. Weasley.  Is Ms. Granger here?"

 

"She's asleep, Ma'am."

 

"Well, you need to wake her and we have to move quickly."

 

Ginny shook Hermione and tried to get her up and moving.  McGonagall's presence made Hermione very concerned and she followed her with all haste through the castle and back to her office.  They were running up the spiral steps when the large clock in the office struck twelve and Hermione only caught a two second glimpse of Ron as he was portkeyed away, calling Hermione's name and leaving Harry standing in the room, staring blankly at her.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Correspondence

 

Hermione's emotions changed from anger to pain and finally to determination as everyone in the room tried to explain Ron's hasty departure.  At first she wanted to go to Egypt to help him, but when that idea was cut down for varied reasons, then the pain from the earlier argument coupled with her inability to speak to him before he left, brought her to tears.  Harry and Ginny tried to be comforting to her, but the more they tried, the less she wanted it.  Finally, she started asking questions about this curse and took off out of the office, heading to the one place where she could find solace.  The one thing she could do, find a book in the library and start researching anything she could.

 

After a couple of days, she felt her head had cleared enough to try and compose a letter.  Remus had assured her that they would get it through to him.  She went through four drafts before delivering it to Remus.

 

_Dear Ron,_

_Remus and your father explained why you had to leave so abruptly.  I wish I could come along to help, but am assured that is not a wise decision._

_Ron, I'm so sorry I didn't ask you to come along on my inspection.  I didn't know it would upset you so much.  I assure you, it was just an inspection and nothing more.  I feel awful about our row.  I don't want to lose what we have.  You're my best friend and you do mean a lot to me.  I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship._

_I have to admit that your comments really hurt, but I understand that you were upset.  Please write back.  Please.  Tell me how you are and let's sort this all out.  Okay?_

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

Hermione spent every night in the library, along with her continued inspections of Draco and keeping up with her classes.  She grew increasingly worried about Ron when she didn't receive a return letter after a week.  Harry and Ginny were constantly lectured on how irresponsible Ron was being by going alone and how they should send help, but every effort was pushed back.  

 

Ten days after Ron's departure, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were having breakfast when the owl post arrived and a letter arrived for Harry.

 

"Hey, it's from Ron!"

 

Ginny and Hermione's eyes brightened as Harry ripped open the wax seal and began to read.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I can't write much.  I'm alright.  Following the plan and being careful.  No contact from anyone yet.  Tell Gin that I miss her and the family and to give everyone my best._

_Take care mate._

_Ron_

 

"That's it?" asked Hermione.  "Let me see."  She pulled the letter from Harry's hand, examining it, sure that he must have missed a page, but that was indeed all he wrote.

 

Harry and Ginny both recognized that Hermione was upset over having no reply and no mention of her in his letter.

 

"He must have been under pressure and couldn't really write.  I'm sure there's a reason for it."

 

Hermione just nodded her head, feeling even worse than she had before.  Nevertheless, she composed another letter and sent it off.

 

_Dearest Ron,_

_Please know that I'm thinking of you.  Be careful and come home soon._

_I'm kind of surprised that you haven't written back.   I don't understand why you aren't talking to me.   Won't you accept my apology?  If you're angry with me, please let me know.  It hurts when you won't speak to me._

_I'm researching for you every night, you know about what.  I hope to help in some small way.  If I find anything of importance, I'll get word to you somehow._

_Please write back._

_Yours Always,_

_Hermione_

 

Hermione doubled her efforts in the next week, staying up until very late at night trying to find any information that would help Ron, but there wasn't much in the library.  About a week later, another letter arrived, again addressed to Harry.

 

_Harry,_

_I'm getting a bit tired, but otherwise doing ok.  So far, so good.  It's very hot here and the work is hard, but so far successful.  I wish I could tell you more.  Thanks for your letter._

_Please don't read this part to Hermione.  I tore up her first letter.  I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I was still feeling the sting from what she did.  Then, in her second letter she asked about me accepting her apology.  I just can't accept that she would do something like that with him.   I'm afraid I'll say something stupid so, instead I'm just going to refrain from writing at all.  Maybe being away from her for a while will help me get over these feelings.  I'm just not sure how I'm going to be able to be with her after what happened._

_Well, got to go.  Give my best to by little sister and the rest of the family._

_See you soon,_

_Ron_

 

"Well?  What does it say?"  Hermione asked as Harry had stopped reading out loud when it got to the part about her.

 

"Oh, um...just that he wants me to give his best to everyone."

 

"Harry, you're not telling me everything."

 

"Hermione.  Please.  You don't want to read this."  He was drawing it away even as Hermione began to try and pull it from his grasp.  Before he could prepare himself, she pulled her wand.  "Accio Ron's letter," she demanded and it flew out of Harry's hand.

 

She read through it and then dropped it on the table.  "Excuse me."  Her voice was choked and she walked with great speed from the Great Hall.

 

After three days, when neither Harry nor Ginny could coax Hermione down in the evenings, they were getting very worried.  She refused to eat much, insisting that she had a sour stomach.  She missed two classes, claiming illness, and Ginny said she heard her tossing and turning with nightmares when she slept.

 

***

 

Harry and Ginny were walking back to the Common Room after dinner one evening, bringing a sandwich for Hermione, hoping to get her to eat something.  Harry stopped, finding Zacharias Smith standing by the portrait hole.

 

"Hey, Zach."

 

"I need to talk to you, Harry."

 

"Um...sure, what about?"

 

He pulled Harry aside in the hallway.  Harry looked to Ginny and motioned for her to go inside and take the food to Hermione.

 

"Listen.  I got this really odd letter from Ron Weasley.  I notice that he's not here right now and I'm not sure what's going on, but well...he wanted to know why I didn't go along with Hermione on her inspection of Draco's room back at the end of October."

 

"Really?  He actually wrote to you?"

 

"Yeah.  I think it's kind of strange and I figured since you two were mates, maybe you'd know what this was all about."

 

"Oh, well.  You see, Draco said some things to her that morning during the inspection that sort of caused a big row between Ron and Hermione.  He was really upset that she went alone."

 

"Hermione didn't report him for anything.  What did he do?"

 

"I'm not really sure, actually.  She started to tell us, but Ron got kind of upset and the next thing they were yelling at each other.  Hermione's in bad shape.  She's been so upset over their argument."

 

"I noticed.  She hasn't looked well the last couple of days.  I thought maybe she just had a cold.  Look, the only reason I didn't show up was that I had a nasty stomach ache that morning and I was in the bathroom, losing my dinner and couldn't meet her.  God, I hope I'm not the cause of this whole thing."

 

"No, I'm sure you're not.  Listen, I'll tell Ron in my letter, OK?"

 

Zach nodded.  "Good night, Zach."  Harry turned back to the portrait hole door and Zach retreated down the hall.

 

Harry decided he had better write back to Ron and try and get this thing settled.  Once again, Harry the referee found himself having to help patch things up between them.  Ginny came down to the common room a while later, shaking her head, indicating that Hermione had not eaten anything.

 

"What are we going to do, Harry?"  She plopped down on the sofa next to him as he finished his letter.  "Oh, are you writing back to Ron?  Did you tell him about her?  This has to stop."

 

"I know Gin.  Here, do you want to read it?  Maybe this will do the trick."

 

Ginny looked over Harry's arm and proceeded to read his composition.

 

_Dear Ron,_

_I have some information to share with you.  Zach Smith found me and told me you wrote to him.  He said that he had a bad stomach ache that morning and he's sorry that he wasn't there to accompany Hermione on the inspection.  I assured him that it wasn't his fault._

_Listen mate, she's in bad shape. You have to write to her.  She's confused and upset.  I know this is between the two of you, but as your best mate, I have to say that you're not thinking this through.  Ginny and I are doing everything we can to keep her spirits up, but she needs to hear from you.  You can't just throw away your friendship over this silly misunderstanding._

_I hope that you are still safe.  We miss you and hope you will get to come home soon.  I can't share too much else, but know that we are thinking of you constantly._

_Write back soon,_

_Harry_

 

And so, about three days later, a letter arrived for Hermione.  Harry was sitting in the common room on a Saturday morning.  Ginny had gone to the library and he was trying to catch up on a bit of homework when he heard a loud thud and turned around to see Hermione sitting at the bottom of the stairs.  Rushing to her side, he saw a piece of parchment clutched in her hand.  She looked at him with tears in her eyes and fell forward landing in his arms.

 

"Hermione.  What's wrong?  Do you need Madam Pomfrey?"  He was rubbing her back and she began to sob into his shoulder.  "Come on.  Come sit down with me."  He helped her up and to the couch.  A crumpling noise returned Harry's attention to the parchment, now fisted in her hand.

 

"Oh, Haa-rr-yy!" she cried and he held her close, still not sure what had brought this on.  He wanted to read the letter, but she had it firmly in her grip.  Instead she started relaying something through stuttered chokes, gasps and sobs.

 

"He-e thinks I'm...I'm a....slut!  He...doesn't...want...to be with me anymore!"  A long wail was followed by Hermione's head shaking against Harry's chest.  "I never kissed Dracoooo!"

 

She was back to full out crying again and Harry tried to soothe her.  "Hermione.  You are definitely not a slut.  Did Ron say that?"

 

"Well, no...but he thinks I kissed Draco.  How could he think such a thing?"

 

Harry cut in abruptly.  " _I_ know you didn't kiss Draco, but you didn't _say_ that you didn't and you know Ron.  He just jumps to the wrong conclusions.   I tried to explain that to him."  She appeared totally stunned at this explanation and Harry considered the possibility that Hermione had totally missed the whole kissing question in the first place.  Her disconsolate appearance tugged at Harry's heart and he opted to offer kind words rather than delve more into the cause of the misunderstanding.

 

"You're the most brilliant, talented and beautiful witch in this school."  Cupping her cheeks, he finally got her head off of his shoulder and was wiping some of the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.  "Any guy would be lucky to have you.  Ron's just being a jealous git.  You have to excuse him, he doesn't know what he's missing."  Harry's right hand moved up to smooth her hair back.

 

"Now, Hermione, you have to stop this.  You have to start taking better care of yourself."  He kissed her forehead.  "You'll do none of us any good if you don't eat better and start getting some sleep.  I need to be able to count on you in this battle.  I can't defeat Voldemort without you." 

 

He pressed his lips against hers in a very small, friendly, but heartfelt kiss before she fell against his chest seeking comfort. Harry tipped back from the force so they were both reclining on the couch.

 

They heard someone clear their throat and Lavender walked past.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  Didn't mean to interrupt."  She was wide eyed, seeing the two of them lying together.

 

*** 

 

Being Lavender, it didn't take long for the rumors to spread throughout the castle that Harry and Hermione were an item.  The story exploded from a simple kiss to a mad snogging session to someone catching them shagging in a broom cupboard.  Amazingly, they themselves never heard the rumors for a good week until Ginny caught wind of it and mentioned something.  

 

Hermione did as Harry asked.  She started eating better and got back to her research with a new sense of purpose.  Tired of moping about, she decided that Ron wasn't being fair and was unworthy of any more of her time or tears.  If he couldn't accept her apology and move on, then she didn't know what else could be done.  Turning her pain into determination, she buried herself in work.  Harry was almost more worried about her now, but at least she was eating and Ginny said she did sleep.  Harry had sent off one more letter to Ron, relaying what Hermione had said and telling him point blank that Hermione had _not_ kissed Draco.

 

***

 

It was just weeks before Christmas.  The castle was decorated in all the festive colors and lights.  Hermione, Harry and Ginny were sitting in the Great Hall eating dinner when the doors opened and Ron limped in.  He moved toward them slowly, favoring his right leg and noticeably thinner.  He looked tired, but was smiling.

 

Ginny jumped up and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and Harry stood to shake his hand and then pat him on the back in a manly embrace before he sat down.  Ron's eyes immediately locked with Hermione's, waiting to see how she would react.  After receiving Harry's last letter and finally hearing all the correct information, Ron realized what a fool he had been and how he had unjustly accused Hermione of something that didn't happen.  He knew he should apologize, but now wasn't the time.

 

"Welcome back, Ron," she offered and went back to her meal.  She didn't say anything else to him over dinner, but her eyes shifted to him frequently as he explained everything he had done while in Egypt.

 

They returned to classes the next day, but as the week progressed, Ron grew more and more despondent over the row and tried numerous times to patch things up with Hermione, but each time they were interrupted or among too any people.  She was polite, but brief in all her responses, asking about his leg, but not showing any genuine desire to have a real heart-to-heart.   It appeared the tables were turning as Hermione was now ignoring Ron and he was the one going to Harry asking for advice.

 

Three days after his return, he ran into Lavender coming through the portrait hole.  

 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron.  Didn't mean to run you over.  I mean, you're injured, after all."

 

"Hi Lav.  How have you been?"

 

"Oh, fine.  So, how did you get hurt?"  She raised her brows inquisitively.

 

"Oh, um..just being clumsy, I guess.  It's nothing."

 

Lavender was the consummate gossip and if there wasn't something to gossip about, she would create something.  Besides, she never hid the fact that she was jealous of Hermione and the attention Ron gave her, especially since their breakup.  Ron wasn't considering any of this when she asked the next question.  "Listen, Ron, can I ask you a question?"

 

"Sure."

 

"Do you know what's going on with Harry and Hermione?"

 

"What do you mean by _going on_?"

 

"It's none of my business, I know, but I just noticed that Hermione's been acting so strangely ever since that night she kissed Harry."

 

Ron stood frozen for a moment, letting her information sink into his head.  Harry kissed Hermione?  This was a revelation.

 

"When did this happen?"

 

"Oh, you didn't know?  Oh, God, I'm sorry.  I thought Harry would have told you.  It's just that you and Hermione always seemed so close and I didn't know what had brought them together like they are now."  Her innocent look must have underscored her true intentions.

 

"Excuse me."  Ron turned, pushing through the portrait hole and limping up the steps to the boys' dorm as fast as his legs would carry him.  He shoved the door open with such force that it slammed into the wall, causing Neville, Seamus and Harry to all jump in their beds.

 

"Neville, Seamus, get out!"  The boys looked at one another and got up to leave the room, not wanting to question Ron when he looked this angry.  Harry sat very still, taking note of where his wand was located, just in case he needed to use it.  When the two had left the room, Ron re-slammed the door, closed this time and threw a locking and silencing spell on it.

 

"What's going on with you and Hermione?  And I want the fucking truth!"

 

Harry sat in stunned silence for a moment.  He shook his head as he replied "Nothing is going on, Ron."  Harry was waiting to gauge his reaction before he expounded on the explanation.

 

"So, you weren't snogging in the common room while I was off in Egypt?"  Ron had moved closer using his size in a threatening stance.

 

He tried to speak slowly and with great confidence.  "No, Ron.  We were NOT snogging in the common room.  I'm your best friend.  Do you honestly believe I would do something like that?  Look, whatever you wrote in your last letter to her was very upsetting.  She wouldn't let me read it, but she was crying her eyes out on my shoulder.  I tried to assure her that she was not a ‘slut.' Thank you very much for voicing that lousy insult, by the way.  I kissed her to make her feel better."

 

"Ah!  So, you DID kiss!"  Ron was now up in Harry's face.

 

"It was a friendly kiss, not a snog.  I was just trying to console her after YOUR LOUSY LETTER!"  Harry was now on his feet and Ron backed up a step.  "After what you said to her, you should be glad I'm not hexing you myself!  Now, get out of my face before I really get upset!"

 

Ron dropped his head, still angry, but starting to feel a bit ashamed of his actions.

 

"Why didn't she just tell me that they didn't kiss?"

 

"Ron, I could be wrong, but she seemed to have missed the question all together.  I think whatever did happen sort of shook her up a bit.  She seemed genuinely confused when I brought up the whole kissing thing.  But, you know, I would think it's obvious that she would never do that."

 

"Yeah.  Well, it wasn't so obvious to me and I guess I sort of made some bad assumptions.  I'm sorry."  The mattress creaked as he sat on the edge of his four-poster.

 

"Don't tell me, mate.  She's the one you hurt so bad that she had a twisted up stomach for three weeks.  She even missed two of her classes!"

 

"She what?"

 

"I told you she was in bad shape.  Everyone noticed it.  She was miserable.  After fourth year, I thought you'd gotten past all the jealousy issues.  You can be such an arse sometimes.  Can't you see that she fancies you?  She has for a long time and first you have this huge row over some stupid misunderstanding and then you disappear before you get a chance to talk and THEN, you basically ignore her for a month and send her hurtful letters!"

 

"Hey, I've been trying to talk to her, but she won't listen to me."

 

"Yeah, well, I can't say that I totally blame her.  While you were gone, it looks like Draco Malfoy has been treating her better than you have!"

 

"What is that git doing now?  He had better leave her alone!"  This brought Ron back to his feet.

 

"He's actually been pretty decent.  Baffles me, but he and Hermione are getting along fine.  I still don't trust him and yes, I've been keeping a close eye on all this, but he hasn't said anything insulting and they almost look friendly.  And, well, all I can say is that you need to do some big time damage control before you lose her altogether, starting with getting her alone for a very sincere apology and a damn nice Christmas present this year."

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Ron did as Harry had suggested, and set about finding the perfect Christmas gift for Hermione.  Bill had given him some money for helping out in Egypt and this was the perfect place to spend it.  The twisting and aching that appeared to have lodged permanently in his stomach was driving Ron to distraction.  He actually did say, ‘I’m sorry’ out loud just two days earlier, but they were interrupted before he could really convince her of his remorse.

 

Twice since then he tried to speak to her, but they were always interrupted.  Hermione had softened a bit following his apology, but they still weren’t back to their usual selves.  Now it was December 22nd and he was struggling to figure out what to give her for Christmas.  Harry was absolutely no help.  Finally Ron made a decision to ask for some advice from the only other person he would trust.  Luckily, his older brother had come back from Egypt for the holiday and was at the Burrow for a few days.  Ron’s letter prompted him to make a visit to Hogsmeade where Ron managed to meet him.

 

Walking into the Three Broomsticks, it only took a second for Ron to find his big brother and within moments they each had a butterbeer and had settled into a corner table.

 

“So, what’s all this about Hermione?”  Bill was holding his bottle and staring at Ron with narrowed eyes.

 

“Um, well, I need some help.  I just…well, I really kind of screwed up and I’m not sure what to do.”  Ron’s eyes shifted away from his brother’s in embarrassment.  The wooden grain on the table became very interesting.

 

“What did you do?”

 

Ron proceeded to explain the whole thing, the conversation leading up to the row, the whole kissing fiasco, the quick exit to Egypt, the letter he tore up, his final letter to her, Hermione’s distress and Harry’s kiss.  The more he explained it, the more ashamed he became of his behavior, finally dropping his head back against the wall behind him and letting out a huge sigh.

 

Bill didn’t say anything for a moment, and Ron wondered whether he was just trying to  absorb everything Ron had just said or possibly because he was so disgusted with Ron himself that he couldn’t verbalize it.  Eyes closed, Ron waited for the reprimand that he knew was due.  It was justifiable punishment that Ron had to perform before he could atone for his behavior.

 

Unbelievably, Bill’s voice was soft and comforting.  “Ron, do you fancy her?”

 

A swift nod appeared to confirm Bill’s suspicions and he pursed his lips before taking another swig of butterbeer.  Cocking his head to the side, an inquisitive expression crossing his face, Bill posed a much bigger question.  “Do you _more_ than fancy her?”

 

Every emotion possible seemed to cross Ron’s face.  First denial, then guilt, followed by apprehension as Ron rolled his head from side to side, bit his lip, banging his head back against the wall again, all the while refusing to meet Bill’s eyes.

 

“Ron.  Look at me.”  It took a second, but their eyes finally met.  “Yes, this was all just a big misunderstanding, but you’re right.  You really screwed up and Harry’s right when he said you need to do damage control.  You may be almost eighteen years old, but I hate to tell you, little brother, that you still have a lot of growing up to do, especially in the maturity department.”

 

A part of Ron wanted to feel insulted, but another part knew that Bill was right and he just continued to listen.

 

“Many wizards your age make the same mistakes.  You play games with people’s hearts, you act out on jealousy.  You think ‘oh, I’ll just not speak to her for a week and see how she likes that’ or ‘I’ll show him I’m not upset by hanging out with the entire Quidditch team!’ – all stupid mind games that do nothing but hurt other people.  When you grow up you’ll realize that having a relationship with someone means putting their feelings, their needs and wants, ahead of your own much of the time.  Every one of your actions is centered around how it makes the other person feel.”

 

“But I don’t know how she feels!  How can I do anything when I don’t know what she wants?”

 

“Girls….women…all want the same thing.  They want to be loved, made to feel special, important.  They want respect, but they also want someone to put them first, to trust them, to believe in them and care for them.  And, in return, you’ll find that they will put you first and you’ll get the same love, affection and respect back.”

 

“So, what does that mean?”

 

“First of all, you have to trust her and stop with the jealousy.  You have to start doing things for her to make her feel special and important.”

 

Ron was now sitting forward and concentrating intently on his brother.

 

“Offer to walk with her to class, to carry her books.  Think of what she needs and give it to her.  If she needs time to study, make an effort to help give her that time.  Compliment her.  Write her letters and tell her how you feel and above all, APOLOGIZE!  What you said was very wrong and if you can’t get her to accept an apology, I don’t know that you’ll be able to move past this.”

 

“What if she won’t listen to me?”

 

“Well, if you really want to be with her, then don’t give up.  She’ll read the letters eventually if you keep them coming.  Add some flowers, a poem, some little trinket to show your feelings.”

 

Ron was absorbing all of this and trying to formulate a plan of action in his head.  He had never been much of a letter writer, but it looked like that would have to change.  He would need to really apologize and do it well.  Poems were kind of mushy, but he could probably do that as well.  He could bring her some tea at night or maybe help with her Head Girl duties so she could get her work done sooner.

 

***

 

Bill had been watching his brother mull all of this over and started to look at him in a new light.  He was still his baby brother, but this was a man before him.  He might still be a bit emotionally immature, but he was right there, on the threshold of manhood and about to take the ultimate leap.  Just the fact that Ron was asking for advice showed that he must care for Hermione a lot.  Suddenly, Bill considered that maybe there was other advice to be given.

 

“Ron, have you kissed her?”

 

Snapping out of his thoughts, he heard the word kiss and looked back at Bill.  “What? Um…no…I haven’t.”

 

“Do you want to?”

 

“I guess, yeah.  I don’t want to unless she wants to.  I mean, she’s a really special friend and I don’t want to lose that, but yeah, I have thought of it.  A lot, actually.”

 

“Well, if you succeed in your apology and you sense she might feel something more for you as well, offering a simple kiss might be a way to tell if she really wants more.  Don’t go groping her or anything, but you can usually tell from the way she responds to the kiss if she is just a friend or if she has deeper feelings.”

 

“She won’t even talk to me right now, I don’t think she’d kiss me.”  He drank down the last of his butterbeer and set the bottle back on the table.

 

“It will come with time and if you want to talk some more later on, you just come and find me.  Hermione is a wonderful girl.  She’s smart, kind and beautiful and you just need to let her know that.”

 

Ron nodded as Bill got up, throwing his jacket on.  “Well, I need to head back.  I’m glad we had time to talk.  I really appreciate what you did for me and I won’t forget it.”  Ron had stood up and Bill wrapped him in a brotherly hug.

 

“Sure, Bill.  You know I’d do anything for you.”

 

“I found out a lot more about this curse, but I have to head back right after Christmas and do some more research.  It’s very old and rather complicated and I’m trying to hold down my regular job at the same time.”

 

Ron nodded his understanding and Bill slapped him on the shoulder as he continued.

 

“Well, you take care now, little brother and try and patch things up with your lady.  I’ll see you at Christmas, right?”  Bill dropped a few coins on the table and they started walking toward the exit.

 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be there Christmas Day.”

 

***

Ron’s talk with his brother seemed to infuse him with a new energy.  He finally had a plan and he wanted to implement it as soon as possible.  Leaving the Three Broomsticks, Ron only had a short while before he needed to be back in the castle.  Harry had managed to convince McGonagall of their need to come and go at will, but he didn’t want to abuse the privilege too much.  Stopping at Flourish & Blotts, Ron perused the shelves in search of a really nice gift for Hermione.   

 

Christmas Eve arrived and most of the students were loading up the carriages that would take them back to the train station for the trip back to London and other points.  Hermione was supervising the younger students as they left for their Christmas holidays.  The clouds and a brisk wind were making the effort a bit difficult and very chilly.

 

Hermione, herself, was going to take the Knight Bus back to London later in the day, insisting that she had to stay at the castle to make sure everyone else got home.  Ron had initially planned on taking the Hogwarts Express back with everyone else, but when he heard of Hermione’s plans, he opted to stay back.

 

Walking out of the castle, he found her bushy hair blowing in every direction under her white knit cap, pieces of parchment with student lists flapping furiously in the frigid wind.  Harry and Ginny who were also heading for the Burrow for the holiday, had already found a carriage, not knowing that Ron wasn’t going with them.  He ran up to their door just as the carriage was about to pull out, grabbing Harry’s attention.

 

“Hey, mate!  Hop in.  We thought you were going to miss it!”

 

“Listen, Harry, I’m going to wait and come back on the Knight Bus later.”

 

Ginny immediately spoke up.  “Ron, you know Mum won’t be happy.  You’re supposed to be on the train.”

 

“Look, I just don’t want Hermione riding back alone, okay?  I’ll be fine and I’ll be home later tonight.”

 

Harry was getting up.  “Maybe we should just wait and come back with you tonight.”

 

“No.  No, you go on to the Burrow.  I’ll be fine with Hermione.  Look, I need a little time with her to talk.  Okay?”

 

A little light bulb of comprehension seemed to click on in Harry and Ginny’s brains and they both nodded and sat back down as the carriage started to move.  Ron backed away, waving a hand.  “See you tonight!”

 

He turned to see a particularly strong gust of wind push Hermione several feet to her right as she struggled to stand up.  A small group of second years were trying to get into a carriage, but were also being blown everywhere.  Ron pushed through the wind to the carriage and lifted a small girl off of her feet and into the awaiting taxi.  A moment later he had her bags inside and helped another boy haul a rather large trunk onto the back.  They started moving off and Ron offered a wave, finally turning around to see Hermione still fighting the wind, but holding her list and looking at him in bewilderment.

 

“Is that everyone?” he asked.

 

“Ron!  What are you doing here?  You’re going to miss the train!”

 

“I’m going to take the Knight Bus later, with you, if that’s okay.”

 

The second to last carriage was pulling out and Hermione quickly checked her list, counting heads at the students inside.  Pansy Parkinson was moving toward the final carriage when Ron noticed the familiar black robes and white blond hair of his least favorite Slytherin as he hastened down the castle steps behind Hermione.  The usual feeling of distrust and loathing washed over him, but he tried to keep his face neutral as Draco walked up behind Hermione.

 

“Granger!”  She turned around, the wind shifting her hair off of her face once more.

 

Draco’s gaze shifted once to Ron, but then moving back to Hermione, he actually smiled.

 

“I just wanted to say Happy Christmas and I’ll see you next month.”

 

“Happy Christmas to you, too, Malfoy.”

 

He ran over and stepped up into the carriage, ushering Pansy in ahead of him.  Ron and Hermione watched as the last carriage pulled away and when she seemed satisfied that everyone had safely exited the castle grounds, she turned to run back up the steps.  Ron was just behind her as they entered the now nearly empty castle.

 

“Hermione, wait.”  She was moving quickly ahead of him.

 

“Ron, I really don’t have time.  I have to take these lists back to McGonagall and I still need to stop at the library, finish up an essay that is due when we return, get lunch and finish packing before four o’clock.”  Ron reached out a hand, grabbing her arm to stop her.

 

“Hermione, wait, please.  Look, give me the lists.  I’ll take these back to McGonagall.  You go head off to the library and I’ll get us some lunch and bring it back to the common room so you can get your essay finished.”

 

She seemed astounded by his offer, but being rushed and in need of some help, she decided to agree to accept his assistance.

 

“Fine.  Here.”  She handed over the parchment.  “I’ll meet you back in the common room in about an hour.”

 

They went in opposite directions and, as promised, met up again an hour later, Ron having brought back several sandwiches and some fruit and hot tea for them.  Hermione had settled down into a chair and started pulling out her parchment and quills when she noticed Ron setting up his chess set.

 

“Ron?”

 

“Yeah?”  He looked up after setting his last rook in place.

 

“Thanks for bringing back lunch.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Ron thought about launching into another apology, but decided to wait and give her his Christmas present, sure that it would speak volumes on his behalf.  They sat in silence for the next couple of hours until Hermione finally announced she was done and headed up to pack her trunk.  She was levitating it back down the steps at quarter of four and found Ron waiting at the bottom, a long cloak over his arm.  She brought her trunk to a rest near the sofa and Ron walked up, holding out her cloak for her, ready for her to slip her arms inside.  He offered a small smile and she slipped her arm in, turning around to don her cloak.  A second later he wrapped the scarf around her shoulders.

 

“Oh, um…thanks.”  As she rounded on her trunk, she almost hit Ron as he stood directly in front of her.  Ron expected her to back away, but he smiled and she remained in one spot.  Reaching over her shoulders, he wrapped the scarf around her neck and then trailed both hands down her arms.  “Hermione, before we go, I wanted to give you your Christmas present.”

 

“Oh, um, well.  I’ve been so busy, I really hadn’t a chance to do much shopping.  I’m sorry, Ron.  I’ll get you a belated gift, I promise.”

 

“That’s okay, I don’t need anything.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brightly wrapped package.  It had a beautiful gold bow with little jingle bells attached that tinkled and sparkled merrily as he pushed it toward her.  “This if for you, Hermione.  Happy Christmas.”

 

“Thank you.  Do you want me to open it now?”  She accepted the package and seemed to be admiring the beautiful paper and avoiding his eyes.  The anger and pain that had resided in her over the past month appeared to have subsided just a little.

 

“Sure.  If you want to.”

 

Finally looking at him, she offered a small smile and pulled the wrapping paper off the package.  Inside was a lovely book of poetry, entitled “Poems of Love and Forgiveness.”  The binding was in gilded lavender with beautiful silver scrollwork and as she opened it, she gasped when she discovered that each poem carried a delicate melody that played automatically as soon as you turned the page.

 

“Thank you, Ron.”  She raised up and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

 

“You’re welcome.”  Without asking, he levitated her trunk and threw his own bag over his shoulder.  He then moved toward the portrait hole, turning to wait for her.  Closing the book, Hermione placed it in her pocket and quickly walked ahead, moving through the doorway as Ron followed her out of the castle and toward Hogsmeade.

 

Arriving at the Knight Bus stop, they only waited a few minutes before it came to a jerky halt and they were soon settled inside as it took off on the bumpy and sometimes frantic ride back to London.  They sat together, but Ron made a point of sitting about a foot away from Hermione, not having earned the right to sit near her yet.  Not long into the trip, he noticed her pull the book back out of her pocket and flip it open to read.  It was only a few minutes later that she came across the note he had written beside a particular poem.  The poem itself was beautiful, speaking of the terrible pain a man felt over some unkind words and asking for forgiveness.  He spoke of his love for a beautiful girl with blue eyes and promised that he would love her for infinity.

 

Below it and just to the right was a handwritten scrawl.

 

_Your eyes may not be blue, but the rest of this is true._

_With deepest regret, I know you’ll never forget,_

_The awful things I did and said to you._

 

_My heart I would give, my life not to live,_

_Without you beside me, to guide me, to share._

_Your friendship, your love, your warm hand in mine,_

_Are all that I think of, I wish for, I care._

_So, please do consider, my heartfelt atonement,_

_Stay with me, never to leave, not for a moment,_

_For life without you, present and planned,_

_Is too painful for this grieving heart to stand._

_Yours Always,_

_Ron_

 

Those few lines had taken him hours to compose and now he waited for her response.  Not daring to look directly at her, he noticed moments later that she reached up to wipe her face with the back of her sleeve and he knew he had at least made some kind of impression.  Working up his courage, he scooted closer to her and whispered so that only she could hear, “I feel just awful about our row.”

 

Her reply was almost immediate.  “Well, now you know how I felt.”

 

Okay, so, she wasn’t completely over it, at least not yet.  He nodded his head, understanding both her statement and recognizing how he obviously hadn’t finished his penance.  His only glimmer of hope came with the reality that she hadn’t moved away from him, tolerating his presence for the rest of the trip, still reading the poetry and twice turning back, Ron hoped to re-read his note.  When they arrived in London, he helped levitate her trunk off the bus.

 

Hermione offered a smile.  “Thank you, Ronald.  I hope you have a Happy Christmas.  Please give my best to your family.”

 

Ron recognized the polite response, sensing she was still not quite back to normal.  He knew this would be his last chance to speak with her for over a week and he wanted to say something that would stay with her.  A million practiced statements swam around in his head, covering every possible scenario, but he still hesitated in his response, instead reaching out to take her hand.  Again, he was encouraged when she didn’t pull it away, but knew he needed to act quickly and finally just said whatever came to mind.

 

“Hermione, please, I’m so very sorry.  I don’t want you mad at me over Christmas.  You mean so much to me and I was a daft fool to say those things.  They were cruel and I’m so ashamed.  You are too wonderful for words and I’ll never forgive myself for what I said.  Please forgive me.”  He felt the water brimming in his eyes and he fought the urge to look away from her.

 

Stan Shunpike had arrived at the door, waiting impatiently for Ron to get back on board so they could make their next stop. 

 

Hermione nodded and replied, “Apology accepted.  I’m sorry, too.  This wasn’t all your fault after all.”  She glanced back down at the little book in her hand.  “The book is lovely and your poem is beautiful.  Thank you.”

 

Ron smiled, just before Stan cleared his throat rather loudly and Hermione decided she had better go.

 

“Happy Christmas, Ron.”  She squeezed his hand and then let it go and that was the happiest sensation Ron had felt since his return.  

 

“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

 

She was already walking away, having transformed wheels onto her trunk.  Ron quickly stepped back onto the bus, sensing Stan’s urgency that they get moving and within only seconds, Hermione was gone.

 

*** 

 

The Christmas holidays at Malfoy Manor were always a lot of pomp and circumstance, but not full of very much meaning or joy.  Yes, the parties were numerous, the guests distinguished and the food and drink were plenty.  Draco marveled at how his mother could look so stunning every evening and play the part of the hostess with such complete control and graciousness without becoming completely exhausted.

 

Draco’s father was gone most days and usually closed himself in his study at night, not wishing to be disturbed.  This was fine with Draco as he really didn’t want to speak with him anyway, much preferring to visit with his mother.

 

Two days after Christmas, Lucius sent for Draco one evening, asking him to close and lock the door behind him.  Lucius then sent up a silencing spell as Draco took an uncomfortable seat in front of the desk.  He hated sitting before his father.  Standing up, his height gave him more confidence as he now stood about an inch taller than his father, but his chairs were intentionally made to lower the guest and placed him in a somewhat compromising position, something that Draco detested as he felt his father’s gaze upon him.

 

“Draco.  I would like a report on your progress at Hogwarts.  The Dark Lord is very anxious for word on your steps to befriend Potter and his cohorts.  I’ve explained that because of your probationary position, you haven’t been able to get word out to us before now of your accomplishments, but his patience is exhausted.  So, what do you have to tell me?”

 

His father’s steel blue eyes bore into him, seemingly extracting the information from Draco’s brain without his knowledge.  He knew this moment would be coming and had practiced his speech over and over again.  The frightful truth was that he didn’t have much information to share and he did not wish to have Voldemort’s rage rain down on him again so, he tried to convey what he thought they wanted to hear.

 

“Well, father, as you may know, it has been very difficult at school this past semester.  I am constantly searched, watched, guarded, my mail pre-read and my whereabouts noted at all times.  I have made some progress with the Granger girl.  Despite her mistrust of me, I do believe she is starting to relax in my presence and I’ve engaged her in conversation several times, although not regarding any topics of great interest to yourself or our Lord.  However, I do feel this interaction is beneficial in developing a stronger connection with her that may result in her revealing crucial information in the future.”

 

“I see.”  Lucius continued to stare and waited for him to continue.

 

“Weasley and Potter are both still very distrustful, but I notice that Potter has been watching my interaction with Granger and seems to feel more at ease with my presence.  So, I feel that is an encouraging sign.”

 

“So, my son, what you are saying is that you have absolutely no news to share with me of any value.  I feel that our Lord will be quite displeased, despite your efforts to befriend the lot.”  Lucius placed his quill in the stand and stood up, walking toward the fireplace, grabbing the porcelain dish that held the Floo powder.  “I need to report something tonight and I would hate to view the consequences for you, if the news was not of value.”  Draco’s heart picked up the pace, now realizing that he could be only minutes from another session of torture.  His father continued, pacing with the Floo power in hand.  “What we need, Draco, is something the Dark Lord can use to disrupt Potter and his friends.  We have heard that Potter is spending a lot of time with the youngest Weasley, the daughter.  Is there a relationship building there?”

 

“Actually, father, I believe the relationship is between Potter and Granger.”

 

“Really?”  He quirked, walking toward the tea set on the heartside table.  “Continue.”

 

“Granger and Weasley had a big row and not long after, Potter and Granger were caught snogging in the Gryffindor Common Room.  Some even claimed they caught them shagging in a broom cupboard.”

 

“Interesting.”  He drank his tea, sitting in the large wingback chair by the fire, the Floo powder now resting on the nearby hearth.

 

“I saw Weasley with her when we left for holiday and they were definitely cold toward one another.  So, I am inclined to believe it is true.”

 

“Draco, why don’t you join me for some tea and then we will share this most valuable news with our Lord.  I think he will be pleased with your offering.”

 

Draco did, as requested, join his father for tea, all the while considering how his statements might affect Granger.  He did believe that she and Weasley had grown apart, but what he didn’t tell his father was that he felt he and Granger were growing much closer.  He had sensed it in their previous meetings.  Never could he admit to any desire for this muggle-born witch, but the feelings were stirring within him.  The control it was taking to refrain from kissing her, from taking hold of her, was enormous.  She might be a mudblood, but she was brilliant and very pretty, something none of the other girls in that school could boast.  He was pulled back from his thoughts by his father’s next statement.

 

“Speaking of relationships, I do believe it is about time that we start planning for your impending engagement.”

 

Draco sensed the floor shift as if the rug had just been yanked from under his feet.  He hadn’t been expecting a discussion on this topic at all.  Yes, his father had told him some years back that he and Mr. Parkinson had made an arrangement that involved Draco and Pansy, but he hadn’t thought anymore about it, sure that things would change as they grew older.

 

“What do you mean, father?”  Draco shifted in his chair nervously, setting the tea cup back on the table to better hide his trembling hand.

 

“Well, son, you are going to be eighteen in June and Miss Parkinson is now of age as well.  It is best if you marry soon and produce a son and heir with all haste.”  He paused to sip his tea.  “It is essential that the Malfoy name continue on and should something unfortunate happen to you, we must be ensured of an heir in the family.  Your mother was unfortunately not able to produce another son for me, but her excellent breeding and social connections have made her a valuable asset as I’m sure will Miss Parkinson.”

 

For the briefest of moments, Draco felt himself lose his cool when speaking to his father.  “You make it sound like mother is just a commodity.  She’s your wife and my mother!”

 

The look on his father’s face brought him back to the harsh reality of his existence.  Why he even considered that his father would feel anything for his mother or for that fact, he himself, was inconceivable.  He knew without even hearing the words, he was an heir to a fortune, a son to show off, to parade around, to marry off and to benefit from, not to love.

 

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, father.”  He hung his head in apology, hoping it wouldn’t go beyond this.

 

“Indeed.  Now, I will transfer a sufficient sum of money into your Gringott’s account with which to purchase an engagement ring.  I trust you can select one that will be suitably noticeable and of good quality?”  Draco only nodded.  “Good.  Well then we will arrange an engagement party for June the 30th.  By then I do believe you can accomplish the task of proposing?”  Again, he nodded in agreement.

 

“Very well.  We’ll set the wedding date for August the first and if her father’s good breeding has done its duty, she should be with child by winter.  I trust you can accomplish that without instruction.”  Lucius got up, setting his tea cup back on the tray and moving back to his desk.  Draco couldn’t believe how his father had just planned out his future for him like they were making a shopping list, and he was expected to father a child within less than a year.  A small part of him wanted to argue back, to tell his father that he didn’t want this for himself, but instead he got an abrupt instruction.  “Leave me.”

 

That night, in his room, was the loneliest he had ever felt.  A million thoughts swirled about his head, of rings and proposals and doing the deed with Pansy Parkinson.  It was true that he and Pansy did spend a lot of time together.  He guessed they were friends and yes, he had kissed her, but they hadn’t actually had sex.  Visually, they looked the part of a couple, but in reality, Draco didn’t have the warmest of feelings for her.  

 

Sleep did not overtake him until quite late in the morning and even then, his sleep was disrupted by dreams of Pansy screaming as she pushed out a dark haired daughter and the echo of his father’s voice ‘what is this black haired female?’ and ‘that is not a Malfoy, dispose of her!’  Bolting upright in bed, the cool air hit the dampness of his sweat soaked t-shirt and he panted; visions of his dream still clung in his head.  A knock repeated on his door and taking a calming breath, he called out, “Come in.”  The door opened softly, his mother entering and turning to quietly latch the door before proceeding to his bedside.

 

She displayed a faint smile, standing at a small distance from Draco’s side.  She seemed to notice Draco’s distress and moved a bit closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “Your father has informed me that I will need to start planning a wedding for later this year.”

 

Draco pulled the blanket off and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling his robe on as he stood and move off to a nearby armchair.  “Yes, that is what I am told.”

 

“Am I to understand you are not pleased with this development?”  She eyed him curiously, standing perfectly still, hands folded in front of her.

 

“Mother, could I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“This is a very personal question.”

 

“Very well.”

 

“Did you try to have other children, besides me?”

 

His mother cleared her throat and walked gracefully over, taking a seat beside him on a small settee.  “What brings this up?”

 

He only looked at her, not repeating his question until she understood.  “I conceived two other children.”  Draco’s eyes widened in astonishment as he looked at her, waiting for more information.  “Your older sister was stillborn one year before you were conceived.”

 

“And the other?”

 

It was apparent that his mother was uncomfortable with this conversation.  In fact, she seemed to be quite emotional as she relayed the last bit of information.  “I conceived another daughter when you were a year old.”  Her focus drifted away from Draco, not willing to display her emotions to her son.

 

“What happened?”

 

“When the medi-wizard informed your father that I was carrying another daughter, he became very upset.”  She hesitated a moment.  “You see, the Malfoys place a great deal of importance in the reproduction of male offspring and your father, he….” she trailed off and stopped speaking.  Draco felt a surge of compassion for his mother.  Maybe it was all this time he had spent with Granger, but he seemed to feel bad for her and he rose, moving toward her.  Before doing so, he understood that kneeling before his mother would be considered insulting and his father would give him a stern reprimand if he were caught.  Regardless of the consequences, he took his mother’s hands and knelt before her, looking into her tear-filled eyes.  This was the only woman who had ever shown him any love and he just couldn’t turn on her, no matter what his upbringing dictated.

 

“Mother.  What happened to my sister?  I want to know.  I won’t tell father that you told me.”

 

“It’s not appropriate for me to speak ill of your father.  He is a great man and deserving of every respect.”

 

“Mother.  Tell me.”  He squeezed her hands, sending his assurances through to her.

 

“Your father accused me of adultery for he was adamant that he could only produce a male heir.  I assured him that I had been faithful to him and for a time I felt everything might be alright, but four months into the pregnancy we got into an argument and your father, well, he…”  she stopped again, as if unwilling to say the damning words that she longed to speak.  “In the heat of the argument, I became tangled up in his robes and fell.  I lost my footing, rolling down the staircase and I…” now the tears were running down her cheeks.  Draco ran a hand up to smooth away the evidence of her pain.  “I lost the baby.”

 

“He pushed you down the stairs, didn’t he?”  Draco was still holding her hands, coaxing the truth out of her.  Knowing his father, nothing was accidental.  He didn’t want the child and he arranged to terminate her pregnancy.

 

She stood up, wiping the tears from her face and moved toward the door.  “I’m sorry for burdening you with this, son.  I hope that your engagement goes well.  Please write to me and let me know.  I do so wish for your happiness.”  With that single phrase, she was out the door, leaving Draco to contemplate the horror that was his father.  What would he think if Draco were to produce a girl.  Would his dream come true?

 


	9. Chapter 9

The holidays passed quickly.  Ron wrote Hermione a letter everyday, each one mentioning his remorse, but also professing his hopes for their togetherness, for her friendship, for so many things.  However, he never said love.  Pausing during his fourth letter to her, he contemplated that phrase and was tempted to write the four letter word, but something told him that despite his feelings on the subject, Hermione wasn’t ready to hear that just yet.

 

Going about the usual holiday festivities, Ron’s joy was tempered each day when he didn’t receive a return letter.  The pain grew in his chest, but he kept telling himself that she was spending time with her family and would write as soon as she could.  For a moment he realized how his own lack of writing had felt for her.

 

Harry had witnessed several of his writing sessions, finally asking on the third letter who he was writing to, although Ron knew he had his suspicions.  Harry had apparently confided in Ginny because the two of them did their best to keep his spirits up during the holiday.  Finally, on January first, they all boarded the train to return back to Hogwarts.  Ron told Harry and Ginny to go ahead and find a cabin.  He wanted to wait on the platform to see if Hermione would show up.  She hadn’t answered his questions about her return trip, but he suspected she would be on the train.  Just five minutes before their scheduled departure, Ron’s eyes were drawn to a white cap with curly brown hair levitating a trunk toward the train.  He ran toward her, overjoyed to see her, despite everything that had happened.  

 

“Hermione!  Hey, let me help with that.”  

 

“Thank you, Ronald.  I got your letters.  I’m sorry I didn’t write back, but we had several parties and then friends and family came over.  Then Mom insisted on taking me shopping.”

 

She released the spell and Ron carried her trunk onto the train and led her down toward the cabin Harry had selected.  

 

“I did write one letter, but I never got to mail it.  Here.”  He set the trunk down on its end for a brief moment and took the letter, tucking it in his pocket for later reading.

 

Soon, she and Ginny began chatting in earnest as they all got settled and before long the train was steaming away on its journey.  She had a smile on her face for most of the trip and was sharing stories of the holiday with her family, even smiling at Ron several times, but they never had a chance to speak in private and it was back to class as usual the very next day.

 

***

 

January was bitterly cold and the numerous fires in the castle were the only things that kept the temperature tolerable.  After spending an afternoon in the greenhouses, Hermione returned to the common room, chilled to the bone and found all the seats by the fireplace were taken by a group of students who had their books and parchment spilled out in front of them.  She shivered as a chill raced through her system and she considered that a nice hot bath might just do the trick.  So, she quickly gathered her things and headed to the Prefects bathroom.

 

The door wasn’t locked to Hermione’s relief, meaning that it was unoccupied.  She was looking forward to the feel of the hot water and bubbles as she stepped through the door and rounded the corner.

 

The first signal should have been the warmth from the steam in the room, but she didn’t sense it in time and looked up to see the completely nude backside of a tall, thin and somewhat muscular young man.  The water was still dripping down his sculpted legs as he ran the towel over his head.  Hermione knew it was wrong to stand there and stare, but her eyes remained fixed on his back, glancing down daringly to check out his bum.  He then proceeded to wrap the towel around his waist and she immediately recognized who he was with a slight gasp.  He stopped moving and his head turned to the side as if listening for something.

 

“Like what you see?”

 

Hermione was shocked back to reality and her hand flew up to cover her eyes.

 

“Oh!  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…I mean, the door wasn’t locked and I thought the room was empty.”  Why was she feeling all flustered over Draco Malfoy, the stinking ferret boy?  This is a man she despised.  _Wait!  Did I just say ‘man?’_   He was only 17 years old, but still the vision of his form was burned into her brain as she stood there unable to move.  He certainly looked like a man.  _Oh, my God!  Where is this coming from?_

A second later she felt a hand reach up and pull her arm away from her face, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut as tightly as she could.  The flush that was flowing over her body was bad enough that she knew he would see her reaction.

 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.  It’s not your fault.  I thought the door was locked.”

 

She started to back up and stepped on a puddle of water and felt her feet slide out from under her.  Forced to open her eyes as she fell, she witnessed Draco quickly wrap an arm around her waist, stopping her descent.  

 

Back on her feet, she discovered her hands were holding on to his still damp arm and she noted that both of his forearms were free of any Death Eater markings, something she had always wondered about.

 

Looking up, her eyes met his steely blue ones and she was about to apologize when she noticed his focus change to her lips.  Suddenly she was very aware of the location of his arms around her, his palm resting on her waist, the water still dripping off his chest and onto her shirt and nothing but a towel separating other parts of him from her stomach.  He inched just a little closer.  _Oh, my God._ _He’s really going to kiss me this time._  She panicked and pushed back from him as he looked at her questioningly.

 

“Um…I’ll just go.”

 

Hermione considered herself a pretty good judge of people and she read his body language like one of her cherished books.  This was desire she saw in his gaze, but the look of curiosity about her as well.

 

“I’ll be done in a minute.”  He released his grip around her waist, one hand moving to hold the towel more firmly around him, but placing the other hand on her arm, guiding her around the offending puddle.

 

“Watch your step this time.”

 

“Oh, um, thanks.”

 

Hermione barely noticed the difference in temperature between the warm, steamy bathroom and the cold, drafty hallway.  The rush of heat flowing through her system, kept her cheeks quite rosy as she waited by the door.  Her instincts told her to leave, but she considered this would play more into Draco’s game if she did.  Besides, she really was cold and wanted that bath.  Within a few minutes, Draco stepped out of the door, fully dressed and holding his small bag of items.

 

He had moved into what she considered her ‘personal space’ but only stood for a moment.   Hermione sucked in a breath, stepping back against the wall, stopping her retreat from going any farther, but trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

 

“It’s all yours…Hermione.”  Again he gave her that questioning look and then he did a quick pivot and proceeded down the hallway.

 

_Did he just use my first name?_   She was so flustered she almost didn’t reply, but finally found her voice.  “Um…yes, thanks.”  Walking into the bathroom, she made sure to lock the door and drew in a deep breath.

 

She stepped into the steamy room and quickly waved her wand to clear the mirror.  As she watched her reflection, her heart finally began to put on the brakes.

 

“What is he up to?” 

 

***

 

Early February arrived with a large snow storm.  Inch upon inch of white powder coated the landscape.  Many students ran out the next morning to make snowmen and snow angels.  Ron had spent nearly two months trying to normalize things with Hermione and now they seemed to be back to their pre-incident selves.  They were talking regularly now and the day before he managed to hold her hand under the table in the Great Hall for the entire duration of dinner hour.  In fact, this new development left Ron feeling pretty pleased with himself, his confidence level ready to boost him to a new level in their relationship.

 

The boys from their dorm were on their way out to engage in a massive snowball fight, when Ron’s eyes became fixed on Hermione and Draco, laughing and tossing a snowball back and forth on the Hogwarts lawn.  Ron’s instinctive jealousy and distrust were suddenly tempered when Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson all pushed past Hermione and started discussing something with Draco.  Ron noticed Hermione’s stance change back to her Head Girl persona.  Ron approached just enough to overhear the conversation as she told Draco he needed to go back into the castle or the others would need to move on.  Goyle was stepping up to her in a threatening demeanor and Ron walked over quickly, standing firmly by her side.

 

“Goyle, are you having a hard time listening to the Head Girls’ instructions?”

 

“Shut up, Weasel,” Crabbe sputtered out as his thick fingers fumbled around in his pocket.

 

“Why don’t you try and make me!”  Ron had his wand out in a flash and was pointing it at Crabbe’s ugly face.

 

Draco quickly interrupted.  “Crabbe, leave him be.  She’s right.  I’m not supposed to be in your company as per the terms of my probation and I’d prefer to stay in school for the time being.  Weasley, would you please lower your wand?  I’m leaving.”

 

Crabbe shrugged as if adjusting his robes and issued a ‘huff’ toward Ron, Goyle’s hand pushing him through the snow.  Pansy glared at Hermione for a moment before turning, nose in the air, to join her housemates.

 

Ron stowed his wand.  “What was that all about?”

 

“I have no idea” she replied.

 

*****

 

Pansy Parkinson definitely belonged in Slytherin House.  Her motto seemed to be “Me, Myself and I” and her actions always mirrored that.  She had been waiting for the right circumstances to come together and they did one afternoon, about two weeks later as Hermione was finishing some work in the greenhouse.  The execution of her plan was just as tricky as the planning had been and the key was enlisting the help of one trusted person.  Pansy found that person in Beatrice Smallwood, a first year, and as it happens, Pansy’s cousin.

 

Pansy and Beatrice had never been close, not like typical cousins, mainly due to the fact that Beatrice’s mother and Pansy’s father weren’t the most affectionate of siblings.  They were cordial and did meet at family gatherings, allowing Pansy to at least get to know her little relative a bit.  After learning of the encounter with Draco and Hermione in the prefect’s bathroom and witnessing them together in the snow, Pansy decided that Beatrice would need to play the role of trusted confidant in her little plan.  Pansy began a three week journey of befriending the young girl.  Now, that friendship was about to be tested.

 

Pansy coaxed Beatrice to come along with her on a walk outside, near the lake.  Despite the casual sounding conversation, something was odd.  It was reflected in the way Pansy kept looking around, shifting her eyes and how she seemed uncomfortable in her skin.

 

When they had reached a spot far on the other side of the lake, Pansy ran ahead as Beatrice tried to keep up.

 

“Pansy!  Wait!  Where are you going?”

 

Pansy kept running, right over the corner of the now frozen, lake.

 

“Pansy!  Be careful!  You’re on the lake!”

 

About twenty feet ahead was a group of rocks and the bare remains of several bushes that lined the opposite shore of the lake.  Pansy stopped in her tracks and turned back as Beatrice continued to plunge through the snow.

 

“OH MY GOD!” screamed Pansy and she turned, raising a hand over her mouth.  She started stumbling back toward her cousin, her expression that of utmost panic.

 

“Beatrice, go get help!  Run to the greenhouse, it’s the closest.  Tell whoever is in there to come quick.  Draco has been hurt.”

 

“Draco?!  Where?”  She took another step forward, as if to investigate Pansy’s discovery.

 

“NO!  I’ll stay here with him.  You can’t help with your limited skills.  Run to the greenhouse, not the castle and then you go back to your room.  Do you understand?  I’ll be fine.  Now, GO!”  Pansy was waving her away and Beatrice turned as instructed and started running as fast as her legs would take her through the ankle deep snow toward the nearby greenhouse.

 

*** 

 

Crunching through the tightly compacted snow was difficult and exhausting.  Her heart was thumping wildly, not just from the exertion, but from the worry about her housemate.  Draco was the most notable student of her house and if he was indeed hurt, this would be a terrible shock.  Her warm breath made clouds in front of her as she panted on her trek.  

_The greenhouse.  I have to get to the greenhouse.  It’s the closest_.  By now she could see the lights inside and the door was only a short span away.  Despite her legs feeling like lead, she kept up the pace and finally pushed the door open, scanning the room wildly for anyone.  

 

She wanted to yell for help, but couldn’t catch her breath so, she stumbled forward, seeing a student at the other end of the room and finally got her attention.

 

“Please…please…we need help.”  She stopped to swallow and catch a breath.

 

It was just her luck.  The Head Girl herself was there.  Surely, she would know what to do.

 

“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked, watching the wide eyes on the young student.

 

“It’s Draco.  He’s hurt.  Down by the lake.”

 

“Hurt?  What’s happened?”  Hermione had set down her papers and was pulling on her gloves, ready to exit the greenhouse.

 

“Pansy said to get help.  Draco was hurt, behind the rocks on the far side of the lake.”

 

“Okay.  Don’t worry.  I’ll go and help.  I want you to go back to the castle and go straight to the Gryffindor Common Room.  You know where it is, right?”

 

The young girl nodded, still breathing heavy, but seemingly capable of continuing on.

 

“Go find Harry Potter or Ron Weasley and tell them to get Madame Pomfrey.”  Hermione was now moving toward the back door and motioning for Beatrice to exit the other direction.  The young girl took off toward the castle and Hermione started making her way through the same tracks that Beatrice had left behind.

 

***

 

Despite scanning the lake and surrounding terrain, Hermione couldn’t see anyone or anything that would draw her attention.  However, if she was to believe in the little girl, she had to continue on and soon her footsteps took her near the rocks.  She knew that the ice was frozen solid, so although cautious, she followed the footsteps over the edge of the lake and then she heard it.  A low, moaning sound came from behind the rocks.

  
”Draco?!  Are you there?”  The ice popped, startling Hermione to a halt and she contemplated taking a step back as she examined the ice, listening for more fissures.

 

“Pansy?!  Draco?!”  The moaning noise continued and Hermione drew her wand, carefully taking another step forward.  She could go back, but it was quite a walk to go around on the ground to get to the far side of the lake and if he was seriously injured, it could make a big difference.  Another odd sound drew her attention away from the moaning again and she looked down to examine the ice when a loud crack echoed over the lake.  It was then that she saw the beam of green light shooting toward her feet.

 

She only had a split second to react as the ice broke and gave way beneath her, plunging her into the icy water.  

 

*** 

 

Beatrice headed straight for the Gryffindor entrance, running until she found the portrait hole.  Panting, she pleaded with the fat lady to let her in, telling her that she didn’t know the password, but it was an emergency.  The door refused to open until she called out Hermione’s name and said the Head Girl had sent her.

 

Well, that seemed to do the trick as the door opened and Beatrice burst through.  She walked along the short hallway quickly, but slowed up when she came to the main entrance for the common room.  

 

Ron was having a conversation with Ginny when a head peered cautiously around the wall.  A young girl dressed in Slytherin robes was scanning the room as if searching for someone or something.

 

Ron approached from the side just as she took one tentative step into the main room.  She appeared out of breath and looked wide-eyed at him as he approached her.

 

“Can I help you?” he asked, examining the small girl, dressed in green and gray.

 

“I…I…I’m looking for Harry Potter.”  On top of being winded she showed a distinct look of fear on her face.

 

“And why do you need to see Harry?” he arched his eyebrow as his hands folded across his chest.

 

“Please.  The Head Girl sent me and told me to get him or Ron Weasley and to come help.”

 

The rest of the room was now focused on the conversation going on at the door and Harry had just appeared at the bottom of the staircase.  He marched over toward Ron, curious as to what this little Slytherin was doing in their House.

 

“Well, I’m Ron Weasley.  So, where’s the Head Girl?”

 

“What’s going on, Ron?”  Harry asked as he approached the duo.

 

“This young lady says that Hermione sent her to get us.”  Ron turned his focus back to Beatrice.  “What’s your name?”

 

“Beatrice Smallwood.  Please, come quick.  Draco is hurt by the lake and the Head Girl went to help and told me to get you and tell you to find Madam Pomfrey.”

 

Ron glanced at Harry, both eyeing each other over the validity of this girls’ statement.  Harry, aware that Hermione had gone to the greenhouses to work, decided to test this girl for the truth.

 

“And where did you find the Head Girl?”  Ron waited for her answer as well, poised to run out the door, if, in fact, Hermione really needed help.

 

“She was in the greenhouse.” Without word, Ron grabbed his cloak that was draped over the back of the nearby sofa.  

 

“I was taking a walk with Pansy and she said Draco was hurt out by the rocks along the lake and she sent me back to the greenhouse to get help.  Please.”  Her mannerisms showed a veritable desire to get moving.

 

Harry turned to Ginny who was now standing a few feet behind him.

 

“Ginny, go get McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey and meet us at the lake.”

 

Ron was already rushing toward the exit, grabbing Beatrice’s arm and pulling her along.  “Show me, Beatrice.”  A moment later, Ron, Harry and Beatrice were running down the hallway toward the exit that would lead them down the path to the greenhouses.  Cutting through them was still the fastest route to the lake.  They moved as swiftly as Beatrice could go until they reached the snow again and she could no longer keep up.

 

“I’m not sure about this.  Be careful, Ron.” Harry interjected, but Ron had already pulled out his wand as they continued across the snowy grounds.  As they approached the group of ragged rocks along the lakeshore, their eyes fell upon a gaping hole in the ice.  Ron started to run toward it.

 

“Ron!  Be careful.  The ice could give way!”  They were moving quickly, but cautiously, listening for the ice and carefully putting their weight on it as they moved forward.

 

Ron was nearly to the hole when he released a loud “NO!”.  There, lying next to the broken ice, lay Hermione’s wand.  Floating just at the top of the water, a mass of bushy brown hair under a white knitted cap. 

 

“HERMIONE!”  Diving forward, Ron’s stomach slid across the ice as his hands overtook the edge of the hole.  He reached frantically, grabbing at anything he could, his arms plunging into the icy water, paddling toward him to get a grip on Hermione’s floating figure.

 

“HERMIONE!  HANG ON!”

 

Harry jumped forwarding grasping Ron’s legs, just as he slipped forward, both arms now pulling the frigid water and Hermione’s body toward him.

 

Finally, Ron’s fingers reached the fabric of her robes and he pinched a piece of the wool and pulled toward him, the next second grabbing a solid handful of material and then wrapping his arms around her elbow.  

 

“Hold on to her, Ron!  I’ll pull you back!”  Harry was pulling Ron’s legs back, away from the hole with Hermione’s limp form in tow.  Ron managed another arm under Hermione’s and pulled up with all his might, her frozen and soaked body like a lead sack.  With one final pull, Harry and Ron both fell back, pulling their friend out of the lake’s frozen grip.

 

Her body lay slumped forward and Ron pulled her back toward him.  As her head fell back in a lifeless thump against his shoulder, he pulled the hair off of her face.  “Hermione!  Talk to me!”  His frantic voice urging him on.  “Hermione!  Please, wake up.”  In desperation he began to shake her.  “Please.  Please.  Oh, dear God, no, no, no, no.”

 

Harry could hear footsteps and turned to see Ginny approaching with Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey.  Another small group of students had followed as well, led by Parvati who gasped at the sight on the ground.  As he looked back, he finally saw the pale, almost blue, face of Hermione draped across Ron’s lap, her head cradled in his arms, her soaked limbs dragging on the ground and her legs bent awkwardly underneath her.  The logical thing would be to rush her back to the castle and he couldn’t understand why his legs felt immobile.

 

Harry’s attention moved to her chest, watching to see if she was breathing, but he couldn’t make out any movement and he sat, frozen not from the snow beneath him, but in fear.  The headmistress and nurse rapidly approached.  Madame Pomfrey dropped to her knees by Ron who was now past his quiet pleading and had burst into screams and tears, forcing Harry’s face to scrunch up, pressing the water from his eyes.

 

Ron wailed “HERMIONE!  PLEASE!”  He kept stroking her face and rocking her as Madam Pomfrey tried to examine her.  

 

“Let me see her!  Move!”

 

Ron only pulled her closer to him and cried out an anguished “NO!”

 

“Mr. Weasley,” her voice urgent but gentle, “please let go of her.  You can’t help her anymore.”

 

Harry was still rooted to the spot, staring at the face of death on Hermione.  Her lips were a bluish purple, her skin gray and covered in frost, her hair, a shroud of dark brown curls under the still attached white cap.  Ron’s uncontrollable sobbing filled everyone’s ears as he let Madam Pomfrey pull her out of his lap.  Harry could just see through watery eyes as Ron slumped forward, holding his head in both hands as unfathomable grief overtook him.

 

Visions of a bossy first year on the train ran through Harry’s head, standing next to her as she wrapped a tiny chain around his neck and used the time turner, him holding her as they were about to be attacked by a werewolf, her sitting in a chair, reading by the fireplace.

 

The visions were broken by the sound of Ginny’s sobs as she approached her brother and lay a comforting hand on his back.  Harry realized that Professor McGonagall was speaking and he noticed that the professor’s usual stern expression was now soft and her eyes full of tears as she addressed the nurse.

 

“Poppy.  Can anything be done?”  Her tone was chilling as if to confirm their worst fears.  Harry heard several cries and caught a peripheral glance of Parvati turning to leave, holding a hand over her mouth.  This seemed to draw the headmistress’s attention as well.

 

“Everyone back to the castle.”  She choked out the next sentence.  “You’ll catch your death of cold.  Now, go!”

 

A flash of movement caught Harry’s attention and he raised his tear filled eyes to see Draco cutting through the retreating crowd to stand behind Beatrice.

 

Beatrice turned and let out a shout, “Draco?  But, but you’re supposed to be over by the rocks.  I-I don’t understand.”

 

Draco’s face, now flushed red from the cold and his struggle to get through the snow, looked at the small girl in puzzlement.  “What are you talking about?  What’s going on?”

 

He scanned the scene, obviously hoping to find an explanation. Harry sat motionless in the snow.  Ron was on his knees, doubled over as if in pain with Ginny beside him.  The Headmistress, her mouth covered, stood next to Madam Pomfrey who was crouched over someone blocking Draco’s view so that he couldn’t realize the seriousness of what had happened.  

 

Beatrice continued.  “Pansy said you were hurt over by the rocks.  I ran to get help!”  The little girl was supremely confused perhaps unwilling to accept the possibility that she had been lied to.

 

“I’m fine.  I’ve been in the library for hours.  I haven’t seen Pansy since...”

 

“I’M GOING TO KILL HER!”  Ron bellowed.

 

Harry watched Ron pull himself up, his expression changed to fury as he ran past Beatrice, heading for the castle.  It seemed that Beatrice had solved her own puzzle, pointing the finger of blame at her scheming cousin.

 

Draco turned after him, “What’s going on?”

 

Harry was rising to follow, only sheer adrenaline carrying him forward.  He had to stop Ron before he committed murder, but he wasn’t sure if he could restrain him, for the terrible ache in his heart and his own desire for revenge would surely make him an accomplice.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – A Grieving Heart

  


“MR. WEASLEY!” McGonagall raised her wand, about to use it to detain the retreating form of Ron when Madam Pomfrey caught her attention.

 

“Minerva! We need to move her.” Madam Pomfrey passed her wand over Hermione’s body and Ginny crawled over to Hermione and sat, her shoulders shaking, tears running freely down her cheeks. 

 

Draco finally caught sight of the form lying in the snow, his facing turning white. 

 

“Granger.”

 

“She doesn’t have any fluid in her lungs.” The nurse shook her head in confusion. “I believe her heart stopped from the cold.”

 

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and Hermione’s body began to levitate off the ground. The headmistress, clearly trying to keep her composure, turned to the two Slytherin students.

 

“Ms. Smallwood. Back to your House, immediately. Mr. Malfoy, go to the castle. Find a staff member and track down Ms. Parkinson. Bring her to my office at once and be very careful! Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are liable to throw hexes without thinking.” Draco nodded during her entire speech, still staring at Hermione’s lifeless body in shock. With her last command he had already started to turn and ran back up the hill, Ron and Harry ahead of him.

 

McGonagall wiped back her own tears and rushed to help levitate Hermione back to the castle as Ginny walked behind them, sobbing all the way. 

 

***

 

Ron reached the castle steps first, taking them two at a time and stormed through the doors, running at full tilt toward the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room. Harry followed close behind, listening to him rant. 

 

“I’m going to destroy the door if I have to and find that little bitch and when I do, I’m going to strangle her with my bare hands!”

 

The rage emanating from him was almost strong enough to camouflage the pain coursing through both of their bodies. Ron’s longer legs carried him to his intended target quicker than Harry who arrived just as Ron was about to blast the door off its hinges. Despite Harry’s own anger, he acted quickly, throwing a binding curse at Ron before he could carry out his actions. Ron tilted back against the wall and was about to fall as Harry reached the door, catching him even as Ron shrieked.

 

“Let me go!! I’ve got to get in there. I’ve got to find her! She’s going to pay for what she did and I don’t care if they send me to AZKABAN! Oh, Ggggoooodddd.”

 

It was as if the dam broke when Ron released an enormous wail and Harry pulled him close, releasing the binding spell, as he cried torrents into Harry’s shoulder. Seconds later, Draco ran up and stopped, seeing the two of them on the floor. Harry looked up at him, pain reflected in his tear-streaked face, as he rocked his friend.

 

“Malfoy, you had better find Parkinson and lock her away. I may have stopped him this time, but I may kill her myself if I find her.”

 

Draco simply nodded, approaching the common room door and whispering the password to enter. A small group of students started to appear, roused by the commotion in the corridor. Apparently, Parvati and others had started to spread the news of Hermione’s untimely death and several were actively seeking out their housemates.

 

Lavender, Neville, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott among others watched with sadness as Ron clung to Harry, still sobbing uncontrollably. Harry’s eyes were also full of tears and neither were able to move.

 

The Slytherin door opened and Blaise Zabini entered the hallway, stopping to look down at the sobbing form of the two Gryffindors and then walked over to whisper something to Neville. Neville nodded, motioning to the others and Blaise retreated back to the common room.

 

Harry sensed that everything was moving in slow motion. His face now felt swollen and tear soaked. It just couldn’t be. She couldn’t be gone, not like this. He had been preparing himself for the possibility of her death, but never like this. Visions of her falling before a red stream of light always filled his dreams, but never something as stupid as falling through the ice and drowning. He hadn’t had time to prepare himself for this and now, she was gone. Just like that.

 

He felt a pair of soft hands pulling him away from Ron and he sensed his vertical motion. The pounding in his head muffled all other sounds besides the gut-wretching sobs that were pouring from Ron’s throat. Sensing that his feet were moving beneath him, he thought he heard a gentle voice tell him that he needed to go back to his dormitory.

 

Behind him, Neville was speaking to Ron and Harry turned briefly to see Anthony and Neville helping his grief stricken friend to his feet. Only then did he realize that Lavender had an arm around his waist and was steering him down the hallway.

 

*** 

 

Noting that the corridor was clear, Draco stepped out of the doorway, his arm firmly grasping Pansy’s upper arm and pulled her with all haste through the castle, heading straight for the headmistress’s office. She didn’t say a word to him but let out a huff as he threw her in front of the door. Pacing in front of the entrance, he finally stopped with his face just inches from hers.

 

“What the FUCK is wrong with you?!” His voice was strong and very low and she winced at his statement.

 

Her innocent eyes gazed back. “What are you talking about, Draco?”

 

“I know you were involved in this. Granger is dead! Do you hear me? Oh, this is just great. I know you had everything to do with this.”

 

“Draco, how could you assume something so dreadful? Besides, you’ve wanted her dead for years now. Why should it bother you?”

 

“Beatrice told me what you did and it does bother me. It bothers me a lot! You just don’t get it, do you?”

 

At first she seemed a bit frightened, but then her usual cavalier attitude took over and her posture changed. “This is all your fault, you know.”

 

“What!”

 

“Oh, you thought that you could have a little fling on the side. I’d never find out about your little escapade in the Prefect’s bathroom?”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“I have my sources, you know. You thought I’d never find out, but I know all about you and her. You should be glad I didn’t report this to your father and took care of things myself.”

 

Her snotty tone of voice and body language enraged Draco and he squeezed both of her arms, pushing her back against the door.

 

“You little jealous BITCH!”

 

“OW! Draco, you’re hurting me! Let go!”

 

“You would actually listen to some stupid gossip about something that didn’t happen and then actually kill another girl over some petty jealousy?! Do you know how fucked up that is?!”

 

He released his grip and she immediately raised her hands to rub over her arms where he had left large red welts. Her demeanor seemed to change, her lower lip trembling as water filled her eyes.

 

“You’re mine, Draco! You’ve been mine ever since I was five years old.”

 

Draco pointed a finger in her face. “Just because our parents made some kind of arrangement does not mean that I belong to you. I may have cared for you briefly. For a while, I hoped that we might actually have a future together, but I can’t be with someone that is so screwed up! Can’t you see how messed up my family is already? I don’t want that!”

 

Pansy sniffed and stepped forward, sneering, her head held high. “And I’m not about to let some mudblood slag move in and try to seduce you away from me.”

 

Something inside him snapped. Whether it was the loss of his one friend or his one established contact in the trio, both gave him a reason to express anger. His usual calm restraint and control gave way and he raised his hand, poised to slap her. She winced at the coming assault just as a stern voice broke through the scene.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, stop this instant!”

 

His head snapped around to see Professor McGonagall approaching and his hand fell to his side.

 

“Take her! I don’t want to ever see her again. Keep her away from me!” 

 

For the first time, Pansy actually looked panicked, watching him walk away and she started to run after him. “Draco! Wait!” Her feet stuck to the floor, held by McGonagall’s quick thinking, and she fell forward watching his retreating form.

 

“Draco! You can’t leave me! We’re betrothed!”

 

“Ms. Parkinson, in my office. Now!” Pansy felt the curse lift off of her feet and she stood back up, tears running down her face as Draco’s form disappeared around the corner. She turned to see a wand pointed directly at her and marched swiftly into the headmistress’s office.

 

*** 

 

The hospital wing was empty except for the still, bluish body lying on the bed. Partway back to the castle, Madame Pomfrey had begun to rush them along, saying she had an idea, but they had to move quickly. At present, her scurrying form was shouting out orders to Ginny. Within moments, Hermione’s wet clothes were removed, replaced by blankets that were charmed to increase in temperature. A bubble charm was placed over her face which Madam Pomfrey said would force oxygen into her system. McGonagall had been instructed to call St. Mungo’s and have them send over a healer immediately. Meanwhile, Ginny was ordered to stay by her side and inform Madam Pomfrey the moment she noticed any change, any movement whatsoever. Ginny couldn’t stop the tears that continued to fall down her face. The lifeless form of her friend was too painful to watch, but she struggled to follow instructions, silent prayers for a miracle whispered from her lips as she sat by her bedside.

 

“Help me get this down her throat.” Madam Pomfrey was holding up a tube of greenish liquid and Ginny reached around Hermione’s cold shoulders and raised her up as Madam Pomfrey tilted her head back, waved her wand to remove the bubble and poured the potion into her mouth. She gently rubbed her throat, trying to coax the fluid into her system, although a portion of it just ran down her lips.

 

“But, she’s dead. She’s not breathing, Madam Pomfrey.” 

 

“Yes, well, we’re going to help breathe for her and this potion will slowly warm her from the inside out, if I can get it in her. Once her temperature gets back up, we can try to restart her heart.”

 

“Really? Oh, my God. Has this ever been done before?”

 

She replaced the bubble charm around Hermione’s head as they lay her back down.

 

“It’s been done with Muggle medicine and I’ve read about it being attempted using the wizard method. I need you to keep monitoring her temperature. Like this.” She showed her the wand movement and the incantation.

 

“I have to prepare the potion to shock her heart. Now, can you do this? We need that healer and quick.”

 

Ginny nodded her head, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve.

 

*** 

 

Not really sure how he got there, Harry found himself sitting on the couch in front of the fire in Gryffindor house, his left hand being held by a dark, feminine one, Lavender sitting on his right, rubbing his back and someone setting down a cup of tea on the table in front of him. He looked up to see Seamus standing before him and then noticed Parvati on his left, tears running down her face as well.

 

He sensed movement to his right and saw Neville and Anthony Goldstein supporting Ron as they entered the room and headed toward the staircase. Ron was walking, the faint sound of sniffles coming from his direction. Harry wanted to go be with Ron. He needed to be with him, but he just couldn’t seem to muster the strength to stand and he fell back against the sofa, unable to even generate a tear, his heart was so heavy.

 

“Hey, mate. I’m really sorry.” Seamus gulped rather audibly. “She was a wonderful girl. If there’s anything I can do.” He stopped, unable to continue and put a hand on Harry’s knee before moving off to the back of the room.

 

Harry, Parvati and Lavender all just sat there for quite a while, both girls crying quietly and all three holding each other, their grief outweighing any nervousness about being near each other. Harry faintly heard a conversation between Neville and Seamus, indicating that Ron was in his bed and should someone consider getting him a sleeping potion.

 

It seemed like they sat forever, although it was probably only for an hour or so when Harry finally started to sense his surroundings more and come out of his stupor. He heard loud voices seconds later and turned to see Dean Thomas running down the stairs.

 

“He’s gone! The window is open and Ron’s broom is gone!”

 

Harry stood up, about to go after his friend, when the door to the portrait hole swung open and Ginny ran in. She searched the room and upon meeting his eyes, she cried out, “She’s alive!”

 

*** 

 

Harry almost stumbled as he moved toward Ginny. She ran to him, wrapping herself around him in a firm embrace. “She’s alive! Madam Pomfrey was able to revive her!”

 

Harry’s throat was so tight, the words squeaked out. “What? How?”

 

“She didn’t drown. Somehow her body temperature dropped so low that her heart stopped beating, but we were able to warm her back up and restart her heart. She was moved to St. Mungo’s. She’s not awake yet, but she’s alive.”

 

“Oh, thank God!” Harry crushed Ginny in an embrace, listening to the gasps and cries of relief as they washed over the room’s occupants. 

 

“Where is Ron? I have to tell him.” Ginny pulled back, searching the room for her big brother. 

 

Dean looked to Harry before speaking. “He’s gone, Ginny. He took his broom and flew off.”

 

“I’m going after him!” Ginny started to turn, but Harry grabbed her arm to retrain her.

 

“Gin, you can’t. It’s freezing outside. We need to go and get help.”

 

Harry felt the life flow back into his body and his purpose for living infused him with strength. He quickly took charge of the scene.

 

“Ginny, go to McGonagall, tell her to alert your family and the Aurors. Neville and Seamus, grab your cloaks and search the Quidditch pitch. I’m heading to Hogsmeade.”

 

“I’ll come with you,” shouted Dean as he grabbed his own cloak from the hook and followed him out the door.

 

Everyone sprang into action. Parvati and Lavender ran up and grabbed clothing and personal items for Hermione and rushed to deliver them. Harry ran to his room, snatching the marauder’s map and scanned it quickly for Ron. He doubted Ron was in the castle, but he had to check to be sure. 

 

After several hours of searching, Harry and Dean came back to the castle, Harry heading directly for McGonagall’s office and Dean back to the common room. There was no news of Ron from anyone. Professor McGonagall had contacted all of the Weasleys and the Ministry as well. Everyone was out searching for him. The night was extremely cold and there was great concern for his safety. Finally, at midnight, when Harry was assured there was nothing else he could do until morning, he left McGonagall’s office having asked for permission to briefly visit Hermione. With the headmistress’s approval, he was instructed to use the Floo in the hospital wing and return within twenty minutes.

 

As the door to Hermione’s hospital room opened, Harry was met by silence and only the faint light coming from a single candle at the end of the room. Between the sliver of moonlight and the candle’s glow, he could see the blanketed, sleeping form of his friend. As he approached, he noticed she was no longer blue, her skin restored to a normal pink and his eyes immediately searched for confirmation of her recovery and got it when he saw her chest rise and fall as she slept. It wasn’t until he sat on the edge of her bed that he noticed she wasn’t wearing any pajamas, her shoulders were bare underneath the layers of blankets. He suddenly felt embarrassed to be sitting near her like this.

 

The voice was soft and caring. “Mr. Potter. It’s quite late. Don’t you think you should be in bed?”

 

Harry wasn’t all that surprised to find Madam Pomfrey sitting in the corner. He spoke in a whisper, not wishing to disturb his friend’s peaceful rest. “Yes, Ma’am. I just had to see her. Um…is she…I mean..will she be okay when she wakes up?”

 

“If she wakes up.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Her heart stopped beating for quite a while and although the cold water most likely shut down all her internal organs, we won’t know if she sustained any brain damage for a while.”

 

Harry lovingly stroked the hair back from her forehead. The idea of Hermione with brain damage was so unfair, he couldn’t barely imagine it.

 

The Hogwarts matron continued softly. “I hear that Mr. Weasley is missing. Is there any word?”

 

“No. We had to stop searching until morning, but everyone has been alerted. We’ll find him.”

 

“I’m sure you will. Miss Granger needs him right now. She needs to hear his voice…and yours.”

 

Harry nodded, looking back at Hermione’s soft features. She truly looked beautiful in this light and his heart ached when he thought of the pain that Ron must be feeling at this moment, not knowing that Hermione was indeed alive and needing him at her side.

 

“Hermione. It’s Harry. You rest and wake up as soon as you feel up to it. I’ll find Ron for you. We miss you and we want you back.” He placed a tender kiss on her forehead and stood up, nodding to Madam Pomfrey as he left to find what little sleep his body would allow.

 

*** 

 

Morning broke over Diagon Alley with streaks of sunshine bouncing off the snow, making the streets even brighter than the time allowed. Fred and George had been out most of the night, searching every shop and alerting every person they could to watch for their little brother. They were cold and exhausted. George was putting up a sign on the door indicating that the shop would be closed for the day as Fred walked into the back room, ready to take the steps up to their apartment.

 

“Ron!”

 

George spun around and ran to the back of the shop. Fred stood just outside the back door, his hands wrapped around each side of their little brothers’ face as he sat leaning against the back of their building, his broom nearby in the snow.

 

“George, help me get him inside. He’s nearly frozen to death!”

 

Between the two of them, they levitated him up the stairs into their apartment, laying him near the fireplace. Fred flicked his wand toward the fire, bringing it back to raging life and George ran to get blankets and start the kettle boiling.

 

Ron mumbled incoherently as Fred started rubbing his arms frantically. George threw a blanket over him.

 

“I’m going to get Mum, keep him warm.”

 

In a pop, George was gone and moments later, another pop produced George, Molly and Bill. George moved off to the stove to procure hot tea as Bill and Molly rushed over to a now shivering Ron.

 

“Little brother, you scared the hell out of us!” Bill rubbed him and shook him at the same time and Molly started throwing warming spells all over the room.

 

“George, give me that tea. Ronald, now you drink this right now young man!” Bill and Fred helped to hold him upright as Molly lifted the cup to his shivering lips. “George, I need you to inform Minerva that he has been found. Now, go!”

 

“Yes, Mum.”

 

“Ronnie, sweetheart. Now you have to drink this.” Even Fred couldn’t joke about his Mom’s endearment, not with the fear that was running through his system at having found his baby brother, lying in the snow, blue and near death. Fred continued to rub his arms, Bill his legs and Molly kept pouring tea down his throat for a good fifteen minutes.

 

A single tear escaped Ron’s eye, running down his cheek as he finally spoke. “Just leave me” he told his mother. 

 

“What? Nonsense. You’re frozen to the core.”

 

Ron shook his head as Bill started to shed layers of clothing at the sudden increase in temperature in the room. “I don’t care.”

 

Molly and Bill both looked at one another and then to Fred, all of them puzzled. 

 

Fred finally spoke up. “Ron, what are you talking about? What’s the matter?” Another pop caught their attention as George reappeared and a moment later, Harry right behind him.

 

“Ron! Thank heavens!” Harry walked over quickly, kneeling before his friend and sharing the news that he knew would return everyone to normal. “Ron, she’s alive.”

 

“Who? What are you talking about?” Molly now appeared frustrated, wondering what news she had missed.

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry explained. “Hermione fell through the ice yesterday into the lake at Hogwarts. We thought she had drown, but she didn’t and the cold water stopped her heart and shut down all her systems.”

 

“Oh, my dear Merlin.” Molly pulled back, Bill catching her as she landed on the carpet.

 

“Ron and I, well, we both thought she was dead, but Ginny and Madam Pomfrey brought her back. She’s alive! She’s at St. Mungo’s and still sleeping, but Madam Pomfrey says she really needs us right now. She’s not sure if Hermione will make a full recovery, but we need to get back.”

 

Ron’s face brightened as he stuttered out a response. “I-I ha-ve t-to get back.” He continued trembling as he tried to stand, but Bill and Fred both held him still.

 

“You are in no condition to go anywhere right now.” Bill took a firm stand as the only one of the men that was actually bigger than Ron at the moment.

 

Ron tried to pull himself together, but his body wouldn’t stop shivering. He reached up, grabbing Bill by the shirt. “Get m-me b-back to St. M-Mungo’s, right-t now!”

 

The four men looked at each other and finally at Molly who nodded her agreement. Within 10 minutes, the Floo network at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been connected directly to the 2nd floor at St. Mungo’s, having alerted them of his impending arrival. Bill held blankets around a still shivering Ron as they entered the fireplace.

 

Stepping out of the fireplace, Ron would have collapsed had Bill not caught him. Harry was directly behind them and the two of them helped Ron down the hallway to Hermione’s room. Bill and Harry were attempting to direct Ron to the bed that Madam Pomfrey had set up next to Hermione, but he jerked away at the last moment and sat on the edge of her mattress, now only shaking occasionally. He reached under the blanket, searching for her hand and only then, as his hand brushed against her soft skin, did he realize she wasn’t clothed. The sudden contact made him pause, but he stroked down her arm, finally reaching her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

 

“Hermione. I’m here. I’m with you. Please wake up.” The tile floor and antiseptic smell was cold, but her hand provided all the warmth he needed and he felt a sudden surge of energy flow through him. She was warmer than any sun, than any fire, just being near her provided enough strength to make him feel whole again. 

 

Harry walked around to sit at the other side of the bed, while Molly headed off to speak to Madam Pomfrey, along with several other healers who were just feet away. Bill just stood stroking the hair back from his face, watching the scene unfold. 

 

Hours later, Madam Pomfrey had sent Harry back to his dormitory, and Molly and Bill finally left after getting assurances that Ron and Hermione would be safe and sound for the evening. At one point during the night, a healer came in to check on Hermione, pulling the blanket down just enough to reveal a bruise across her chest that she was attempting to heal. Ron, though very sleepy, noticed the blue and purple marks across her chest and looked wide-eyed at the healer who explained that the effort of re-starting her heart had required some manual intervention and the bruises were a result of that. She would be sore for days, despite the healing spells that she was performing on her.

 

The next morning, Ron had finally succumbed to sleep in the bed next to Hermione after spending hours talking to her. He’d told her every story he could think of, stroking her cheek, kissing her face tenderly and whispering all kinds of endearments to her throughout the night. At one point, she had pulled his hand up onto her stomach, giving it a slight squeeze and Ron seemed to be assured that she had heard him and he finally crawled into bed.

 

“Ron.” The soft voice was breaking through the silence. “Ron?” He heard it again as his eyes fluttered open. It was very early morning as the sky was still in twilight. His mind struggled to remember where he was and then finally the previous day’s events flooded back and he rolled to his left, searching the bed next to him. 

 

“Hermione?” He moved to the chair that was beside her bed. Her head rolled to the right and her eyes opened, the deep brown looking right at him through hooded lids.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, smiling and searching again for her hand. This time she reached out for him and in doing so the blankets fell back from her body, revealing her bruised chest and the top of her soft feminine parts that lay below. Ron sucked in a breath of air at the sight before him, but immediately grabbed the blanket and covered her back up. Her hand rested on top of his, still clutching the blanket.

 

“Welcome back, love.” Her face broke into a small smile and with that, Ron knew, everything was going to be alright.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Ron's Birthday Present

 

The Hogwarts Hospital Wing was fast becoming a second home to the trio as Hermione, now considered stable, was allowed to convalesce back at the school.  After a tearful visit from her parents, she insisted on returning to school and Ron moved with her.  With almost constant visits from Harry and Ginny, Madam Pomfrey spent a good deal of time shooing everyone back to class.  Ron remained in the neighboring bed for the rest of the day, sleeping occasionally, but talking to her whenever she was awake.  It was just idle chatter, full of jokes, routine and happy memories that Ron was sharing to try and improve Hermione's spirits.  It was during one such visit that Professor McGonagall came in, full of questions, followed by Tonks who looked official, standing back a few steps.

 

"Mr. Weasley.  Are you feeling better today?"

 

"Yes, Ma'am."

 

"You do know that what you did was very foolish."  Ron dropped his head in admonishment, but she continued.  "However, I can understand your actions and the grief you must have been feeling.  Ms. Granger is very lucky to have a friend like you and I'm very sorry that you had to suffer through this whole ordeal."  Ron just nodded, a bit ashamed to talk about the whole situation.

 

"Ah, Ms. Granger.  So good to see you awake.  You really gave us a scare."  She turned to acknowledge the others sitting along the sides of her bed, nodding to each.  "Ms. Weasley.  Mr. Potter."

 

Tonks finally approached.  "Hermione, are you feeling up to answering a few questions?" 

 

Her answer was soft and lacked strength.  "Sure."  She nodded, though still weak and flat on her back.  The headmistress pulled up a chair next to her bed and interjected "Mr. Potter and Ms. Weasley, would you excuse us?" 

 

"No.  I want them here."  She reached out a hand to Harry as the nearest of her two friends.

 

Tonks nodded at McGonagall who continued, "Very well.  I need to know precisely what happened.  This whole event is under investigation and a student's future lies in the balance."

 

Ron sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  "Parkinson."

 

"Mr. Weasley.  If you can't keep your comments to yourself, then you'll have to leave, frozen or not."

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

McGonagall looked back to Hermione giving her the signal to begin.

 

"Um...well, I was in the greenhouses finishing up some work and this young girl came running in looking for help and she said that Draco was hurt and that Pansy had sent her to get help.  So, I sent her to go find Harry or Ron and I headed out toward the lake."

 

"Why didn't you get a teacher or send Miss Smallwood to get a staff member?"

 

"Well, the Gryffindor Common Room was closer than any of the professor's offices and I knew that either Harry or Ron would be in there."  

 

"Very well.  Please continue."  
  


"As I got closer to the lake, I started calling for Pansy or Draco and I followed the footsteps over the lake knowing that it was frozen.  We had just been skating on it the day before.  So, anyway, as I got closer I started to hear moaning noises and I called out some more and then...then I heard the ice crack."

 

She swallowed hard and felt Harry squeeze her hand in support.

 

"I pulled out my wand and I looked all over, but I didn't see any obvious fissures.  And...and then I heard a moan again and I started toward it when the ice cracked again and I looked down and then....and then..."

 

Her breathing had increased and she placed a hand over her ribcage, feeling a bit of the soreness flare up.  Ron moved to the edge of her mattress in a flash, placing his warm hand on top of hers.

 

"Are you alright, Ms. Granger?  Poppy?"  Madam Pomfrey was getting up from her nearby seat.

 

"No.  I'm fine."

 

Ginny reached over to hand Hermione a glass of water and she released Harry's hand and gladly took a small sip before handing it back.  "Thanks.  Um...like I was saying...I looked down at the ice and then I saw this flash of green light hit the ice directly at my feet and I felt myself beginning to fall through.  I tried to move, to get my footing and suddenly I just had this...I don't know...this vision...this sense that I was going to drown and I just raised my wand and called out the bubblehead charm.  As I did, I felt myself fall through the ice and suddenly I was under the water."

 

Tonks piped in.  "You're sure she intentionally broke the ice?"

 

Hermione just stopped speaking, but nodded before staring straight ahead.  A single tear drifted down her cheek and then she felt Ron's hand on her leg, stroking through the blankets, offering his comfort and support.  This pulled her focus to him and her next statement she seemed to direct to Ron.

 

"How could someone hate someone else so much?"

 

"What do you mean, ‘Mione?"  Ron was holding her gaze, but the rest of the group was watching intently.  Hermione's brow furrowed a bit more and her eyes began to fill up with tears.  The next time she spoke, it was more stuttered.  "It was so cold.  It was like a million needles jabbing into you at once and I looked up.  I swam back up.  I could see the hole in the ice and then I saw..."  Now her lip was trembling and her face scrunched up as the emotions overtook her.  "I saw Pansy standing over the opening, staring down at me and she sealed the ice!"

 

The whole room erupted.  Everyone except the headmistress used a derogatory term to refer to Pansy with Ron and Ginny then looking ashamed when they realized what language they had used in the presence of their headmistress.

 

Harry pulled back, landing in a nearby chair.  His position was immediately filled as Ron moved up toward the head of the bed.  He took a washcloth from Hermione's bedside and began wiping her tears as he stroked back her hair.

 

"Oh, Hermione.  It's alright now.  It's over and she'll never hurt you again, will she Professor?"  Ron was speaking soothingly to Hermione, but his tone showed well concealed rage when he asked his last question.

 

"Ms. Granger.  When we found you, there was a large hole in the ice and you were floating at the top."

 

Hermione sniffed and took in a stuttered breath to regain some control.  "Well, I'm not sure how that happened.  I just remember that I could breathe, but it was so cold and I realized I didn't have my wand.  I looked around for another opening.  I knew my charm wouldn't last very long, but I couldn't see another way out and it was getting so unbearably cold.  I started banging on the ice, but it wouldn't budge and then I just started feeling kind of tired.  I don't remember much else."

 

Madam Pomfrey was now standing, moving toward her with two glasses, her next dose of potion.  "I believe that the cold water basically shut down your internal organs, stopped your heart from beating and with the bubblehead still working, you never inhaled any water.  Instead you floated to the surface."

 

"But, the ice was sealed."  Hermione looked confused.

 

This time Professor McGonagall interjected.  "It appears that Ms. Parkinson broke the ice again when she was fairly certain that you had drowned and she thought it would appear that you had fallen through the ice accidentally."

 

This time it was Ginny asking the obvious question.  "But why would she do such a thing?"

 

The next voice came from clear across the room.  "Because she was jealous."

 

It wasn't until that moment that anyone noticed Draco Malfoy standing near the doors.  He had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning on the wall, just observing from a distance.  

 

"Of what?"  Ginny became the first to say something to him as everyone else appeared somewhat shocked at his arrival.

 

"She thinks that there's something going on between Granger and me."

 

"What?!"  Harry was shocked.  Hermione just continued to look pained and shook her head.  Ron watched her intently for any sign of explanation in her eyes, but he kept stroking her arm as he did.

 

"So, you're the cause of this whole incident."  Ron started to rise, but Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

 

Harry cut in.  "Ron!  Draco didn't do anything.  This was all Pansy."

 

Hermione turned and looked directly at Draco.  "There's nothing going on between us that should make Pansy jealous.  Is there?"

 

Everyone looked back at Draco.  He paused for a brief moment, his eyes never leaving Hermione, before shaking his head.

 

"No, nothing."

 

Draco took a tentative couple of steps towards the group, but stopped still yards away.  "Look, I just came to see if you were alright.  Pansy was a bit....well, she's not thinking straight.  I'm not defending her or anything, but I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry she did this to you and I'm glad it didn't work."  He swallowed hard trying to get that last phrase out as he met the doorway.

 

"Draco."  Hermione called out and he turned back toward her.  "Thanks for coming by."

 

Draco only nodded and then left the room.

 

*** 

 

Ron was released a day later, having suffered a bit of frostbite and hypothermia, but he was making a full recovery.  Ginny lit into him about his unwise departure and near death, but then her arms were around him, reassuring him of how much she loved him and didn't want him to leave her.  Again, Ron felt ashamed of his behavior for despite the agony his heart had felt at the time, he now realized how his actions had affected others that he loved.

 

During one of Harry's visits to see Hermione, she told him that they needed to plan for Ron's birthday.  It was just days away and despite her current condition, she wanted him to have a nice party.  So, with some help from Dobby and Ginny, Harry managed to put together a birthday celebration for Ron.  

 

On March first, Ron woke as usual, getting breakfast and going to classes, but during his lunch break, he ran down to the hospital wing to check on Hermione.  As the large doors to the room swung open, Ron was surprised to see that Hermione was vertical, resting against a stack of pillows.  Moving quickly to her bed, she set down her book and smiled up at him.

 

"Hi!  You're sitting up!  How are you feeling?"  She patted a spot along side her on the bed and Ron took a seat, a wide grin across his face.

 

"Better.  My chest is still really sore.  Madam Pomfrey says that they may have cracked a couple of ribs when they tried to restart my heart."  Ron's hand had crawled across the blanket and took hers, linking their fingers and was now giving a gentle squeeze.

 

"Yeah, I saw some of the bruises.  They looked painful."

 

The implication of what he just said hit her and her eyes widened a bit.  "You saw the bruises?  On my...my chest?"

 

First his ears, then his cheeks flushed a deep pink as he shifted a bit on the bed.  "Um...well, yeah...the blankets kind of slipped down and...I mean I didn't sit and stare at you or anything.  I mean, how would I know that you were naked under them!"

 

"What?!  Ronald, just what exactly did you see?"  Despite her tone, there was a hint of a smile behind her voice.

 

"Nothing!"  He feigned innocence, putting up his best puppy dog eyes.

 

"Ronald."  That tone said to Ron that he had better confess the truth or he'd be sorry.

 

"Well, just a bit of your chest, um...I mean...your...you know.  I covered you right back up.  I'm not a pervert or anything."  

 

Hermione's smile grew as she replied.  "I never said you were, but you are a seventeen year old boy."

 

He felt her eyes study him for a moment, surely noticing his unease at this topic of conversation, but her next question arrived with a sweeping grin.  

"So!" she said cheekily, "Did you like what you saw?  I mean, not the bruises, but..."

 

"Hermione!"

 

"Just asking."  Her smile widened.  "By the way, Happy Birthday!"

 

"Oh, thanks.  I don't feel any different."

 

"I feel kind of bad that I don't have a birthday present for you."

 

"Well, you have a pretty good excuse.  I think I can overlook it this one time."  His smile returned and the flush left his cheeks.  "So, when do you think you'll get out of here?"

 

"I'm not sure, but pretty soon.  Madam Pomfrey said she'll be back to check on me later and I'll know more then.  Don't you have to get going?  You have class in about five minutes, don't you?"

 

"Yeah.  I guess I should go."  The twinkle had returned to those deep brown eyes that he loved so much and suddenly, he got an urge to see if he could make them twinkle a bit more.  He leaned in and heard the breath catch in her throat, thinking that he was going to kiss her.   At the last second, he detoured his lips and moved toward her ear, whispering,  "Yes, I liked what I saw."

 

He followed that up with a gentle kiss on her cheek as he withdrew.  It must have worked for he saw goose bumps raise up on her arms and her pink cheeks and pursed lips were the only things outshining the grin on her face.

 

Standing back up he noticed that she had been reading the book of poetry that he had given her for Christmas.  It seemed like it only took a moment for her to regain her composure.  It was also obvious that she was going to play along with this flirtation that he had started, for her smile became a bit crooked before she spoke.

 

"Well, if you're good, maybe you'll get to see it again."

 

Ron was almost relieved because his cheeks were beginning to hurt from the constant smile on his face.  That last comment, however, erased the grin and his mouth fell open just a bit as he cleared his throat and started backing up.

 

"Um, well...I've got to run.  I'll see you later."  He was out the door in a flash, leaving Hermione still smiling and a pleasant warm sensation moving through his system.

 

At dinner that night, Ron insisted that he had to go back to the infirmary to check on Hermione again, but Ginny told him a lie, saying she had just been there and that Hermione was dead asleep and would be out for the rest of the evening due to Madam Pomfrey's sleeping potion.  Feeling a bit defeated, Ron agreed to head back with them to the Common Room, his spirits lifting a bit when Harry suggested they pull out the chess board for a while.

 

Ginny moved ahead of them as they spoke and dashed through the portrait hole with Harry and Ron following a few seconds later.  Ron's thoughts were all centered on chess and Hermione when he heard a huge "SURPRISE" from the crowd gathered in the room.

 

A million smiling faces filled the room, including Fred and George who immediately walked up to clap him on the back.  "Happy Birthday Ickle Ronniekins!"  Fred was the first to congratulate him.

 

"Fred, our little brother is eighteen today!"  George added, slapping the other shoulder.

 

"I can't believe he's out of his nappies and all grown up!"  Fred was teasing.

 

Ron just rolled his eyes and smiled, embarrassed, but thrilled to see his brothers and the rest of the people present.  It was only minutes later before everyone was enjoying food and beverages, laughing, playing games and showering Ron with gifts.  He seemed genuinely pleased and was smiling after opening his gifts when Ginny sat down next to him on the couch.  

 

"Happy Birthday, Ron!"  Ginny had to practically shout over the decibel level of the room.

 

"Thanks, Gin.  This is great.  You and Harry do this?"

 

"Well, it was Hermione's idea, but yeah, we pulled it all together."

 

The smile fell from his face.  "It's just not right without her here, though.  Is she really going to be asleep all night?"

 

Ron looked back to his sister and saw her returning a huge smile.  It was only then that he noticed how quiet the room had become and he looked over his shoulder to see the best birthday gift he could ever hope for.  Hermione stood at the entrance, a wide grin on her face.  Luna was standing at her side, offering support.  He bolted from his seat, dashing to her side as the noise level grew three-fold with salutations and ‘welcome back Hermione' comments.

 

She started to move into the room more and Ron immediately recognized the grimace of pain on her face.  She tried to smile and say ‘thank you' to all the well-wishers, but it was obvious to him that she was still hurting.  Without a word, he moved to her other side, wrapping an arm gently around her back as she walked cautiously toward the sofa.

 

They got her settled and Harry brought her a drink as Ron sat down beside her and the party continued.  Hermione never moved for the rest of the night and Ron rarely left her side, but they talked and joked with the other guests, even playing some charades with Hermione just doing the guessing.

 

At about ten o'clock, Hermione started to yawn and Ron told Harry that they needed to clear everyone out.  He was having a fabulous time, but he knew Hermione wouldn't go to bed until the party was over and she obviously needed her rest.

 

Most of the guests had left and the Gryffindors had gone up to bed a short while later, Luna bidding them goodnight to head back to her dorm.  Ginny got up from her chair.

 

"Hermione, you look really knackered.  Maybe you should head up to bed.  I can help you up the steps."  Ginny was standing by her side as Harry and Ron cleaned up some of the wrapping paper and ribbon from the floor.

 

"That would be great, but can I first have a few minutes alone with Ron?"  Ginny's eye arched up.  "Just a few minutes, if you don't mind."

 

"No, no, that's fine.  I'll just go up and throw on my pajamas and I'll be back down in a few to get you.  Okay?"  Hermione nodded and Ginny swiftly grabbed Harry by the arm and started pulling him toward the staircase. 

 

"Hey!"  he exclaimed, but quickly caught the look in her eye as she motioned for them to leave.  "Oh, um...goodnight, Ron.  ‘night Hermione," Harry offered, heading up the stairs.

 

Ron seemed a bit bewildered at the sudden loss of people and noise in the room until Hermione spoke up.  "Ron, can you come sit down for a minute?"

 

"Sure."  He wasn't sure why Harry and Ginny had just made a hasty retreat, but he relished any time he could get Hermione alone.  Settling into the cushion next to her, she looked down at her hands and he suddenly felt anxious.  No one spoke for a minute and he started wondering why he was sitting there.  They had been talking all night, but this felt different and he wasn't sure what to do or say.

 

It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

 

"Ron."  She was now wringing her hands in her lap.  "Harry told me about what you did...pulling me out of the lake and everything.  And, um, what you said when you thought I had drowned and well, I....I just was wondering...I mean.  Well, you've never really said anything like that to me before, not that I was expecting something...that is, you didn't really have to say anything for me to know...what I mean to say is, um..."

 

Ron's furrowed brow shadowed his attempt to wrap his head around her statement and by the third ‘well and um' his eyes lifted, obviously putting two and two together.

 

"Hermione, you scared me to death."

 

"I didn't mean to."  She staring at her hands.

 

"I never said it was your fault.  It was that stupid bitch Parkinson."

 

"Language, Ronald."

 

"I just mean that you shouldn't feel bad.  She thought something was going on between you and Draco and being the evil Slytherin that she is, she just thought she'd push you in the lake and take care of everything.  I heard that McGonagall has expelled her and she headed back to her parents' home in London while she waits for her date in front of the Wizengamot."

 

Catching him totally off guard, she blurted out.

 

"How do you feel about me?"

 

There it was.  It was hanging in mid air and Ron felt his body stiffen as if suddenly petrified.  The cotton in his mouth and cloud over his brain was preventing any rational response.  _How do I feel about her?  Can't she tell?  Well, maybe she can't, but how am I going to answer this? ‘I fancy you like hell Hermione.'  No, she'd reprimand me for swearing if I said that.  ‘I think you're beautiful and I want to kiss you so badly it's killing me.'  That wasn't bad actually.  Say something stupid.  Don't just sit here or she'll think you don't like her.  Speak!  Come on, take a deep breath and open your mouth!_

 

When he didn't respond, Hermione appeared dejected and she shook her head.

 

"Never mind.  I'm sorry I asked."  She started to try and get up, but Ron placed a hand on her leg, halting her movement. 

 

"No, I'm glad you asked and um...you deserve an answer."  This finally brought her eyes up to his, her expression blank like all of her emotions hinged on his next statement.

 

He had a hard time meeting her eyes as he kept glancing between her face, the floor and the furniture around him. 

 

"Hermione.  It nearly killed me when I thought you were dead.  We've been friends for a long time and recently, well, I've started to think that maybe we could be a little bit more than just friends...that is, if you want to.  We don't have to or anything and I'm happy with just being your friend.  You're brilliant and well, beautiful and I kind of fancy you.  Well, actually, I fancy you a lot, but I don't have to if you aren't interested.  Oh, God..." he trailed off, sure he had just screwed everything up.  To his relief, she smiled at him, cupping his cheek in her hand.

 

"I kind of fancy you, too."  Those warm brown mirrors to her soul gave off a twinkle that radiated up from her smile.  The feel of her hand on his cheek sent shivers down his back and his stomach starting doing little flip flops.  Relief and realization washed over him.  She fancied him, too!  This was great!  He wanted to smile, in fact, inwardly he felt himself jumping around like a kid at Christmas, but her touch and her eyes had him hypnotized.  He felt his cheek pressing more and more against her hand, noticing how soft it felt.  Without really thinking, he reached for a loose strand of hair and pushed it behind her ear, leaving his hand now resting on the side of her head.

 

They were so close that both could feel the breath of the other on their face, but Hermione wasn't advancing and Ron decided to take the initiative, sinking in to press his lips against hers.  She returned the kiss immediately, her lips moist and warm.  His hand slid into her tresses, ready to pull her closer when he heard a throat being cleared from behind him and he pulled sharply away.

 

Ginny stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking abashed.  "Um...sorry.  Didn't mean to interrupt, but I need to help Hermione up the steps."

 

"Oh, um...yeah."  He cleared his throat and released Hermione.  "You going to get up there okay?" he asked as she started rising off the couch, clearly glowing from their contact.

 

"I'll be fine."  Slowly making her way to the steps, Ron kept a hand on her back until Ginny took over and he watched them ascend the girl's staircase very gingerly, finally walking up his own with a stupid grin on his face and the promise of good dreams to come.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12 - Acting

For a few precious weeks, it almost seemed like life was getting back to normal.  Hermione was finally able to walk around without any pain.  They were all back in class and Harry was still researching Horcruxes, thinking he was finally on to something.  

 

NEWTS weren't far away and by the time Hermione healed, she had started working on study schedules and pestering Ron about his homework to no end.  Normally, her constant nagging would have put him off, but he didn't mind it so much as he usually got to study while sitting next to her.  They had kissed one more time, but again were interrupted, leaving it short, but sweet.  That same night they agreed that they should keep these intimate moments secret and maintain a friendly atmosphere when they were with the other students.  Harry and Ginny knew about them, but otherwise, they appeared as just close friends.

 

The trees were showing small buds and many of the birds were returning to the area. Ron and Harry enjoyed one carefree day on the Quidditch pitch when Gryffindor scrimmaged with Ravenclaw.  A small group of students and teachers came out to watch and Ron enjoyed getting out into the warmer weather and having a good fly.

 

Harry, Ron and Ginny were relaxed walking back from the pitch.  Hermione had opted to stay at the school and finish some homework as she was almost caught up with everything she had missed.  Considering it was just a scrimmage, Ron wasn't bothered with the fact that she wanted to study, knowing how important it was to her.  Just as they had reached the castle steps, they were met by Professor McGonagall.

 

"Mr. Weasley.  I need to see you in my office.  If you could find Ms. Granger and all four of you meet me in fifteen minutes."  Without any further explanation, she turned and hustled off in the general direction of her office.

 

The three of them all looked at each other.  She had the same tone that she had used the previous fall when Ron had been shuffled off to Egypt and Ron immediately began to feel uneasy.

 

"I'll go get Hermione in the library and meet you back in the common room in a few."  Ron handed his broom to Harry and headed down the hallway. 

 

Arriving in the library, Ron found Hermione with four open books in front of her and a stack of parchment that would rival the largest stationery manufacturer in existence.  He couldn't help but smile, seeing her deep in thought and he almost hated to interrupt her, but this obviously couldn't wait.  Walking up to her table, she noticed his presence and looked up. 

 

"Scrimmage over already?"

 

"Yeah.  Listen, Hermione, you need to come with me."  He dropped the volume of his voice.  "McGonagall wants to see all of us in her office in about ten minutes."

 

"What's it about?"  She started packing up the books, pushing the parchment inside to mark her place.

 

"I don't know, but I don't feel good about it."  He reached down for her rucksack, holding it while she placed her things inside and then he lifted the sack over his shoulder.

 

"I can carry it, Ron," she said with a small huff.

 

"It's not a problem.  Come on.  I need to change and we have to meet Harry and Ginny in the common room."  Grabbing her hand firmly, he pulled her along after him and they moved swiftly back to Gryffindor house.

 

Something told Ron that he was going to be doing something dangerous again and this time, he wanted to make sure that Hermione knew what was happening from the beginning and that she was there with him.  

 

They were all seated in McGonagall's office within ten minutes and as if to affirm Ron's suspicions, Bill walked out of the Floo with Remus right behind him.  Ron reached over for Hermione's hand and gave it a small squeeze as soon as his brother appeared, but he quickly released it.

 

"Hi, Ron.  Hermione.  Harry."  Ginny hopped up and walked over to offer a warm hug.  "Hello, little sister."  He squeezed her tightly, offering a kiss on her cheek before she went back to her seat next to Ron.  Harry was sitting on Hermione's right.

 

Professor McGonagall entered from her residence door and began speaking almost immediately before any more pleasantries were exchanged.  "Ah, so you are both here.  Good.  We need to move quickly again.  Mr. Weasley, "  Bill and Ron both looked at her.

 

"Ronald.  I hate to ask this of you, again, but once more we need a little help with our Egyptian connections."

 

Bill looked at Ron with an expression of regret that he had to involve his little brother at all in this, but he didn't say anything as McGonagall continued.

 

"Our ‘friends,'" she said, emphasizing the word, "who worked with you in the fall, are asking for you again.  They, of course, believe that you are actually Bill Weasley and now that they know what you look like, we can't very well send the real Bill Weasley in with them."

 

"I thought the Aurors were going to arrest them back in November?"  Ron sat forward, full of questions and anxious to hear about this new mission.

 

Remus cut in.  "There was a change of plans when we discovered they knew more than we originally thought.  Look, I promise, this will be short.  No more than a couple of weeks.  They were ‘happy' with the job you did last time, although they don't know that we actually broke into a false vault and they are holding forgeries of the actual items.  This time, they claim to have some ancient treasure from an Egyptian tomb and they want someone to check it for any ancient curses.  So you are just going to take the items and Apparate to an assigned location to meet Bill.  He will check for the curses and advise you on what to do.  We just need to find out where it originated from."

 

"Ron.  I'll be really close by.  You just have to play the part for a week or two."  Ron got the impression that Bill was trying to convince himself just as much as his brother.

 

"Are we going to get rid of these people?  I mean, they could keep asking for me over and over again.  Are you just going to keep sending me back to them?"

 

Remus spoke up again.  "No.  We've had them under surveillance for a while now and we think that this, so-called treasure they found may be from a tomb that also contained some ancient magical scrolls.  These scrolls may contain information pertaining to the curse, but even if they don't, they may have some very ancient spells that could be very useful to Voldemort and his followers and we don't want them to fall into the wrong hands."

 

"So, you need me to try and get them to tell me where they found the treasure?"

 

"Yes, then you'll contact Bill and we'll get people there to search for the scrolls and we'll get you out."

 

Ron nodded as if to simply accept this mission when Hermione spoke up.  "So, you're just going to send him off on this without question?"  She was looking straight at McGonagall.  "This could be dangerous!  Egypt is far away and we can't get to him easily if he needs help."

 

"Hermione," Remus interjected, "it's true that this could be dangerous, but again, Ron is the only one who can do the job.  He's proven himself capable playing the part and we'll all be quite close by to help him, if he needs it.  These aren't Death Eaters, they are just greedy businessmen who want their gold.  They aren't the type that go around throwing killing curses out at people."

 

"He won't have anytime to prepare for his NEWTS!"  Ron puffed out an amused breath.  Wasn't it just like Hermione to use a school testing requirement to bolster her argument?  However, he could see that her other reasons weren't good enough and she was getting desperate for anything to keep him back at the castle and safe.

 

"Ms. Granger, we will make sure that Mr. Weasley is afforded time to make up his studies."

 

"When do I need to leave?" Ron asked, looking to his brother.

 

"Soon.  Probably tonight.  I have to go back to finish some logistics, but we should have everything ready for your arrival by about six o'clock."

 

Ron just nodded his head in acknowledgement.  He didn't think he had a choice and if the Order needed his help, he was going to do it.

 

"I guess I should start packing."  He was about to stand when McGonagall interrupted.

 

"There is one other thing that I need to discuss with you."  He sat back down in the chair.

 

"As I'm sure you all know, Ms. Parkinson has been expelled.  Her father and Lucius Malfoy are quite close.  Ms. Parkinson admitted to me that her attempt on Ms. Granger's life was due to the fact that she believed that Draco Malfoy and Ms. Granger had entered into some kind of relationship.  However, there is another rumor that Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger are instead a couple and this rumor has made its way back to certain individuals who are in a position to notify Voldemort.  Now, I don't wish to delve into her personal relationships right here in front of everyone, but I do believe that neither of these rumors are accurate, am I correct?" she asked Hermione directly.

 

Ron's brow furrowed.  All his suspicions about Hermione and Draco flashed before his eyes and he waited for her confirmation.  "Yes.  The rumors are false," she stated, looking at Ron and then back to Harry for a moment.

 

"As I suspected.  Now, it so happens that Mr. Parkinson has been in close contact with the individuals that have access to these scrolls and we are told he wants to retrieve them for some reason.  It is possible that he may be working in collusion with Lucius Malfoy to obtain these for the Dark Lord.  We also feel that Lucius needs to ensure that Draco and Ms. Granger are not together in order to maintain his close connections with Parkinson.  Since he cannot contact Draco while at school, we need to somehow supply him with some misleading information.  This will, one, keep the focus off of Mr. Weasley while he is gone, two, allow Lucius Malfoy and Mr. Parkinson to believe their relationship is intact and three, draw suspicions away from certain other individuals who have been mentioned as being close to Mr. Potter."

 

"I'm sorry Professor, but I'm confused." Hermione looked totally taken aback.

 

"First of all, we need a cover story as to why Mr. Weasley is gone from school.  He can't have two aunts die within six months.  Secondly, we need to keep the rumor mill full of traffic about something other than Mr. Weasley's whereabouts and activities.  So, we plan to put up a little smoke-screen by asking Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley to have a very public row in the Great Hall.  Mr. Potter, we need you to come to her aid."

 

She looked back at Ron.  "With the help of some of your brothers' creative joke-shop items, we plan to make it appear that Harry has hexed you and sent you to the hospital and then back home for a bit of recuperation."

 

"I can't hex Ron!"  Harry offered, thinking this was the most ludicrous plan in the world.  "Everyone knows that we're best mates."

 

"Yes, but we need you and Ms. Granger to play the part as a couple and this will convince everyone that she means more to you than him.  Teenage relationships can be powerful things.  Ms. Granger will be safe here at the castle and no one will look for Mr. Weasley nor try to kidnap him or harm him in an effort to get to you as they will all think that you hate each other.

 

 "This will also dispel the rumor that Draco Malfoy and Ms. Granger are involved and will also put some distance between yourself and Ms. Weasley." She faced Ginny as she reached the end of her sentence.  

 

Ginny spoke up.  "Me?  What's this got to do with me?"

 

Bill, who had been quiet for most of this discussion, finally interjected.  

 

"Gin.  Look, we didn't want to pull you in to this.  Mum and Dad are worried, as are the rest of your brothers.  Again, I don't know the connection until Ron gets the location of these scrolls, but it seems that there is talk amongst the Death Eaters that you could be a prime target for abduction.  There's talk about you being connected to these scrolls, but we think it's because of your relationship with Harry."

 

The protectiveness seemed to spring forth from Harry.  "We don't have a relationship." 

 

He looked at Ginny with a pained expression, obviously knowing that what he was saying would be hurtful to her.  "I broke things off with Ginny last spring specifically so this wouldn't happen!"

 

"Yes, but you are still seen together on a regular basis, even if it's just as friends.  Having a very visible relationship with Hermione will pull the focus off of Ginny, off of Draco, off of Ron and allow everything else to fall into place, at least for a while."  Ron had seen the sadness creep into his sister's face upon hearing Harry's words.  

 

Remus must have also noticed Harry's concern over Ginny as he thought about this whole scenario.

 

"Harry, it's not that we want you to give up your friends.  We just need you and Hermione to pretend to be a couple for a while.  Just a while."

 

Hermione looked at Harry, unsure of what to say.  Ron glanced back and forth at both of his friends, trusting both and yet not liking this whole set up in the least.  For years now, he had secretly worried that Hermione would love Harry more than him.  Although he'd gotten over it, the old pangs returned as this was discussed.  Harry returned the glance, questions brewing on his face.

 

"Do I have to kiss her or anything?"  

 

"No, just hold hands a lot, sit together, and try to look happy around each other.  Study with each other, stuff like that.  We're not asking you to put on a public snogging display."  

 

"I hope the hell not!"  Ron blurted out, his ears turning crimson.

 

"Ron."  Hermione just cocked her head at him.

 

"Yeah, I know.  Language Ronald."  This brought out a frown, accompanied by a huff, and Ron knew he had better stop or there wouldn't be a need to pretend.  After glancing around at all the people in the office, Ron thought it wise to get a grip on his emotions as everyone was watching him.

 

"Well, go ahead.  You both know I trust you," he directed to Harry and Hermione as they considered the plan.

 

Hermione nodded, looking back to Harry as if to convince him that they could do this.

 

It was agreed after a little further discussion that Ron and Hermione would start a row at dinner that evening in the Great Hall.  Harry would, as the plan suggested, come to Hermione's aid and blast Ron with a false curse, aided by some of Fred and George's mirrored lights and smoke bombs.  Ron would be carted off to the hospital and Harry and Hermione would play the happy couple, with Harry receiving some quasi-serious detentions of course.

 

Ron was in his room packing when a knock came from the door.  "Come in."

 

"Ron?"  Hermione was standing there, looking a bit timid.

 

"Oh, hi."  He stepped to the side, waving her in.

 

"I just couldn't let you go without telling you that I'm going to miss you.  And, well...I wanted to tell you to be careful."

 

Ron stopped his packing, noting the tone of fear in her voice.  He moved to her in one full stride.

 

"I'll miss you, too and yes, I'll be careful."

 

They had been so cautious about demonstrating their feelings for each other when they were in public.  In fact, so careful, that sometimes they almost lost the sense of having them altogether.  Only twice had they kissed and both times they were interrupted after just a moment.  Now, here Hermione was in front of him, standing in his dorm room, looking frightened and obviously wanting some assurance and Ron was feeling worried himself, trying to quash the doubts that had flooded his mind when it was mentioned Hermione and Draco had been involved.

 

He knew that time was almost up and they had to go, but he slipped his arms around her waist and she reciprocated by sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck.  He wanted to kiss her again and wondered if he should just go ahead and do it, but she broke the moment.  

 

"You will write me if you can?"

 

"Of course.  Maybe even a little poetry, if I can manage," he said with a grin.

 

This brought a smile to her eyes that he loved to see.  The doorknob started to turn behind them, but Ron pressed his palm against the door and called out, "I'll be out in a minute."  He really didn't care who was trying to enter the dorm room, they could just wait for a moment.  Then he heard Harry's voice.

 

"Ron, we'll be late.  Open the door."

 

Ron stepped around Hermione, opening the door a crack to speak to Harry.  It appeared he was alone in the hall, but Ron kept his voice low. 

 

"Harry, we need a minute, okay?"

 

Harry appeared puzzled at first until he grasped the concept of ‘we' and realized Ron had someone with him and he could guess who that was.  "Oh, yeah, I'll wait out here."

 

Ron closed the door and turned to find Hermione standing by the edge of his bed, biting her bottom lip.  The door clicked shut behind him and he simply stood looking at her for a couple of seconds.  Something roared inside him and he thought if he didn't take action now, he might regret it later.  With two quick strides, he placed himself in front of her, weaving both hands through her hair and kissed her with all the feeling he could muster.

 

Without hesitation, she opened her mouth for him as his tongue reached in for the first time and stroked her tongue.  Her hands crept up his chest, holding his robes in her fists and his hands trailed down her back, pulling her closer to him as their kiss deepened and intensified.  When it seemed like both of them were about to loose consciousness from the lack of air, Ron let go.  Neither of them said a word, but stood in panting silence, allowing their heartbeats to return to normal.

 

"Ron, we have to go now."  Harry's voice broke through from the hall.

 

Ron grabbed his bag, gave Hermione one last quick kiss and stroked her cheek.  "I want to apologize now for anything that's about to happen in the Great Hall.  You know I don't mean any of it."

 

"I know."

 

About seven minutes later, they were seated in the Great Hall and upon Harry's cue, Ron and Hermione started to argue.  They had a general topic of discussion to use as a plan for their argument, but soon it seemed as if they were really arguing as their voices rose.  When Harry was sure that most of the Slytherin table, including Draco Malfoy, was watching, he jumped in and started defending Hermione.  His fake wand had been loaded with the appropriate joke shop paraphernalia and upon calling out the curse, he needed only to trigger the wand which emitted the smoke and stream of light.

 

Ron did a great job of acting and fell to the floor.  Hermione appeared to resist the urge to ask if he was alright, after the loud thud that occurred when he landed.  As planned, McGonagall was there in a second, invoking Professor Sprout's help in levitating Ron out of the room and pulling Harry into her office.  Hermione stayed behind as Ginny pretended to console her.


	13. Chapter 13 - Constellations and Confessions

Over the next several days, Harry and Hermione did their best to appear like a couple.  They held hands, sat next to each other in class, at dinner and while they studied.  Ginny tried to distance herself just a bit from Harry, and Ron had been whisked away to start his mission.  Hermione watched for the post every day, but after five days, she still hadn’t received a letter.  At first she kept discounting this as Ron being busy, not having privacy, being watched or some other reason, but another part of her felt concerned that she hadn’t received any news from him.

 

On the fifth night, she walked with Harry to the Astronomy Tower so that they could finish an assignment on star gazing.  After about an hour, Harry was finished and suggested to Hermione that he really wanted to go back to the Common Room and would it be alright if he let her stay to finish up on her own.

 

Hermione actually preferred this and told him to go ahead.  Two other students were up there with her and she felt perfectly safe.  However, as she got more and more into her assignment, she hadn’t noticed that everyone else had left. 

 

Looking through the telescope, her concentration was disrupted by some distant voices and she removed her eye and looked down over the turret wall.  The stars were bright that night, but the light they provided was minimal and Hermione could only make out shadows on the ground below.  She knew that no one should be out of the castle at these hours and decided to report this incident to McGonagall.  The voices stopped almost before they started and all went quiet once again.

 

She started to return her parchment to her bag, but then realized her forgetfulness over the last piece of the project that was due the next day.  She argued with herself that it would only take five to ten more minutes and so, she resumed her skyward examination.  Just moments later she yawned, now satisfied her work was done when she heard some movement behind her and stopped, quietly drawing her wand from her robe pocket.

 

“All alone, Hermione?” 

 

She spun around, ready to hex anything that moved and that’s just what she did.

 

“Stupefy!” she yelled, but the jet of light bounced off her intended victim just as she heard his voice.

 

“Whoa!  Granger, it’s me.”  Draco stood there, wand drawn, having thrown up his shield in just the knick of time.

 

“Draco!  You scared me to death!  You almost got yourself hexed.  What are you doing up here this late?”  She still had her wand drawn, but it dropped slowly down her side.

 

“Actually, I was looking for you.”  His wand was also dropping, but his statement made Hermione pause and she put herself subtly back on the defensive.

 

“What do you want with me?”

 

With a smooth gesture, his wand slid into its pocket and Draco calmly approached her.  “I just wanted to see if you were alright.  Can you please put your wand down?”

 

She lowered it a bit more, but ‘constant vigilance’ repeated in her head, keeping her at the ready.  As her heart slowly settled down from its initial jolt, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

 

“You know, I really thought we were beyond this.”  Draco looked quizzically at her.

 

“What do you mean?  Beyond what?” she returned, noting anxiously that they were the only ones in the tower.

 

“You still act like you feel threatened by me.  Have I done anything to warrant that kind of reaction?  Anything at all?”  Draco hadn’t moved, maintaining what she considered a comfortable distance.

 

“Not really, but we do have a history, you and I.  Six years I’ve listened to your threats, your snide remarks, and your insults.  It’s enough to make anyone feel on edge.”

 

He started to stroll as casually as he could toward the telescope on the tower.  “True.  I guess I can’t really blame you.”  Looking through the scope, he must have noted the constellation group she had been watching.  “Corvus, am I right?”

 

“Yes.”  Hermione picked up her bag in hopes of making a hasty exit while Draco was distracted with the telescope.  However, as she tried to duck around him, she felt his hand grab her arm.

 

“You don’t have to go on my account.”  His grip was firm, but not painful as he stepped back from the telescope.  

 

“Malfoy, let me go.  It’s late and we need to get back to our dorms.  You are breaking your probation being here in the first place and I should just report you.”

 

Without letting go of her, he moved into her path, again placing him in her personal space.  “Look, I saw what happened with you and Weasley in the common room and I was just concerned.”

 

“You?  Concerned about me?  That’s a laugh!”  She pushed out a false sounding chuckle and again attempted to pull her arm back, but Draco still had hold of it.

 

“Why is it that you think I have no feelings?  That I can’t care about something or someone?”  He stepped forward, causing Hermione to back up a step.  “You probably don’t know this, but I actually came to see you more than once when you were in the hospital wing.”

 

He took another step forward, forcing Hermione into the turret wall, finally letting go of her arm and instead placing both hands on either side of her, trapping her against the stone.

 

“So, are we back to ‘Malfoy’ after all this?  What happened to using our first names, Hermione?” he said hoarsely, leaning in toward her.  His chest touched hers and again she found herself panicked and excited at the same time, wondering what in the world was wrong with her.  She couldn’t stand this man and yet, here he was just inches from her and she actually felt aroused.

 

“Draco.  There, I used your first name.  Are you happy?”

 

“I’d be much happier, if you…” His hand found a curl which he rubbed between his thumb and forefinger.  “Would just admit…”  She felt his breath on her face.  “That you felt the same…”  He slid to her left, his mouth now near her earlobe.  “Attraction that I feel for you.”  His lips placed a full, but gentle kiss on her jaw.  

 

Hermione’s initial reaction was to pull away and she jerked slightly at the contact.  “Draco, stop it.”

 

Ignoring her comment, he reached an arm around her back and the other found the nape of her neck as he pulled back to face her.  She sucked in a breath at the force of his grip on her.  His voice was low and rough when he spoke again.

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel this.”  And with that his lips were pressed to hers.  Her heart and mind told her to fight this, but he held her close and without meaning to, she let out a groan.  That was all the urging that Draco needed as he pulled back for a breath. 

 

“You know you want this as much as I do.”  

 

Her “No” was muffled as he hungrily took her mouth again, this time with much more force.  Without waiting for an invitation, his tongue pushed forward as he continued holding her tightly.  

 

Distracted by the incredible heat between them and the woodsy aroma of his cologne, Hermione almost gave in and opened her mouth, but Ron’s face flashed in her mind and she twisted herself away.

 

“No!  Draco, stop.”  He ignored her and resumed the intense assault on her body, this time down her neck, his grip still firmly pressing her against him.  Hermione’s pleas increased in volume.  “We can’t do this.  Please, stop!”  

 

Her eyes involuntarily squeezed shut in panic, her body rigid with fear.  Thoughts of actually fighting this man had begun a practice session in her head when suddenly the pressure of his body on hers eased up.  Still feeling his firm hand on her back, she recognized his other hand had released her head.  

 

She suspected that he had noticed her frightened expression, based on his next statement

 

“It’s alright, I stopped.”

 

She dared to open her eyes and found him still standing close, but no longer trapping her against the wall.  She witnessed him lick his lips and swallow very hard.  That assuredness that he always presented, his ‘I am Malfoy, hear me roar’ attitude was gone.  In their place appeared two crystal grey eyes, pressed beneath the arches in his forehead.  If ever Draco Malfoy had been shocked by something, this had to be the moment for he appeared completely stricken with disbelief.

 

“You thought…you thought I was going to force you to…”  Releasing her completely, he spun around, running a hand through his hair and walked a short distance away from her. 

“I-I wouldn’t do that to you.”  Almost half to himself he mumbled, “I’m not like my father.”

 

Hermione trembled, trying to get her breathing under control and not really knowing what to say to him.  He’d admitted to having feelings for her and for a moment, she almost wanted to reciprocate.  What was it about this boy?  This man.  He made her nervous and excited and frightened and aroused all at the same time.  Taking another deep breath, she studied him as he now sat on a bench, his back to her, holding his head in his hands.

 

Her first instinct was to comfort him, but years of mistrust held her in check.  Taking one tentative step toward him, a soft sob echoed in the stillness of the night, bringing her to a halt.  _Was he crying?  Was Draco Malfoy crying?_ Again, the compassionate side of her took another step toward him when he raised an arm to wipe across his face.  He _was_ crying!

 

“Draco?”  Her voice was hesitant and soft.

 

With his back to her, he responded softly.  “I’m sorry, Granger.  I never meant to frighten you.  I just thought that you felt it, too.”

 

Without knowing if it was his apology, his tone or his manner, something made her relax and she regained her courage, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

He drew in a short breath and stiffened upon her touch.  This struck her as odd for it almost seemed like he was frightened of her.  She turned to sit next to him on the opposite side of the bench.

 

“Draco, I…I don’t know what to say.  I didn’t know you had these feelings for me.  You’ve always hated me and well, I guess it’s just hard to imagine that you would ever do anything but loathe me.”

 

“Some things changed for me this year,” he explained turning his head a bit to the left.

 

“I noticed.”  She gave him a subtle nudge on the arm with her shoulder.

 

Now they were both glancing at each other, mostly through their peripheral vision.

 

“Look, I find you interesting and attractive, but if you don’t feel the same, I understand.  But, I had to try.  I had to tell you.”

 

“Well Draco, I find you interesting and quite attractive, too.”  This brought his attention up and she was surprised to witness an actual, genuine looking smile.  It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t snide, he looked thoroughly pleased and quite handsome when his smile filled his eyes like it did at the present. 

 

“You do?”

 

“I’d be lying to myself _and_ to you if I didn’t say that I almost gave in to that kiss.”  She looked away as she continued, “but Draco, I have strong feelings for...” she almost said Ron and then the conversation about her and Harry pretending to be a couple flashed through her head and she changed course mid-stream, “someone else and he means a lot to me.”

 

“Yeah, I know.  It’s okay.  The way things are going, I’ll be unhappily married with children this time next year and I’m sure you don’t want to be a part of that scenario.”

 

This really took her back as her eyes grew wide and turned more to face him.  “And who do you plan on marrying and having these children with?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

“I’ve got time.”

 

*** 

 

Morning arrived with a crash as thunder and lightening filled the pre-dawn sky.  A particularly loud rumble shook Hermione from her slumber.  Rubbing her eyes, she stretched and yawned as her mind tried to focus on what day it was.  As her head began to clear, she started to recall the previous nights’ conversation with Draco.  Like a man possessed, he had unloaded his heart to her, confessing his fathers’ plans for his life and how he didn’t agree with it.  He spoke of his betrothal to Pansy, his fathers’ questions over Christmas and he even touched on the fact that he had been tortured the previous summer for his failure to kill Dumbledore.

 

Hermione said little, instead acting as his ear piece, listening, absorbing and occasionally, consoling him.  This was a completely different Draco, he was sensitive and caring, he had ambition and intelligence, but no will to take over the world, not like his father at all.  They had spoken for well over an hour before Harry actually showed up, concerned that Hermione hadn’t returned to the Common Room.  

 Harry had been quite shocked to see them sitting on the bench together and Draco, unbelievably, apologized to Harry for keeping her occupied for so long and insisted they had only been talking.  It was apparent that Draco believed, like the rest of the school, that Harry and Hermione were a couple.  Whether it was meant to keep up the ruse or just because of his protective nature, Harry had moved quickly, pulling her away and wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her closer to him.  Despite that, Hermione still couldn’t erase the image of the two enemies standing on either side of her, exchanging almost pleasant conversation for the first time she could remember. 

Grabbing her toiletries, she threw on her robe and made for the showers.  By seven thirty, she was sitting in the Great Hall, sipping tea and watching for the morning owl post.  Draco entered a few minutes later and walked directly toward her.  His smile reflected an unburdened soul.  Looking at the Slytherin table and finding it empty, Draco bent over and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

 

“Good morning,” was all he said before crossing to his house’s regular table and Hermione tried to get a grasp on this new friendship she seemed to have forged.  It felt good to be his friend, but she was still wary of so many things.  She wasn’t convinced that Lucius wasn’t still pulling Draco’s strings.  And then there was Ron.  Well, Ron would probably have a fit if he knew she was getting to be on even friendlier terms with Draco Malfoy!

 

Within another fifteen minutes, Harry had arrived, sitting beside her as usual, but looking over at the blond-haired boy on the nearby bench.  The owl post arrived a few minutes later as most of the student body arrived for breakfast.  To Hermione’s delight, she received a letter from Ron, which she ripped open quickly.

  _Dearest,_

_Can’t say much, but I’m fine.  Things are going as expected.  Met with my number one person yesterday._ _I miss you.  Sorry I wasn’t able to write earlier, but I have been thinking of you often.  When I see you again, I hope that the situation can change so that we will have the opportunity to be ourselves once again._ _I’ll try for the poetry on the next one, I promise._

_Yours,_

_R_   

It was short and somewhat cryptic, but she loved it just the same.  His hidden messages made perfect sense to her and just the fact that he was safe provided her with a sudden rush of warmth and she carefully folded the letter back up and placed it in her pocket.

 

Brotherly affection went beyond all boundaries in the coming weeks, if that was truly how Harry felt about Hermione.  Not a soul at Hogwarts would have had any doubts about their relationship, with the public demonstrations that Harry was putting forth.  At one point, he actually kissed her in public.  It was brief, but Hermione had to pull him aside one evening and remind him of her feelings for Ron and that she wasn’t comfortable kissing him.  After that, he seemed to relax a bit and started to involve Hermione more in his horcrux research.

 

*** 

 

All this attention and affection between the two of them seemed to affect Ginny and it wasn’t long before she started to act bitter and angry toward Harry.  At first, he just blew it off, thinking it part of the acting, but quickly realized that Ginny was jealous and, if possible, angry.  It seemed that their acting job was so good, Ginny started to act on Ron’s behalf, arguing that they appeared too close and sending nasty comments in their direction.

 

One night in particular, Harry was in the library very late, having found an interesting connection to a specific Ravenclaw portrait.  Madam Pince had closed up for the evening, but Ginny somehow managed to gain entrance and began mumbling under her breath as she walked past Harry to a nearby stack of books.  Deep in thought, he didn’t really hear what she was saying for the first minute, but then his attention was drawn to her comments.  Anger was building inside of him and he slammed the book shut, scraping the chair against the floor as he pushed back and within seconds she was backed into a bookcase.

 

“What is it with you?!”  His breath was ragged and fists clenched at his sides in frustration.

 

“Me?  Me?  Nothing.  I’d rather ask what is with you?!”

 

“I’ve had enough of your nasty comments and sideways looks over the past couple days.”

 

“Well, you deserve it!”  She pushed her hands against his chest to force him out of the way, but he grabbed both wrists.  The questioning look on his face, the body language all begged for an explanation.

 

“Why do I deserve it?  I haven’t done anything to you!”

 

“That’s the point.  You’re all over Hermione!  You know about her and Ron.  I mean…what an inconsiderate thing to do.  If he were here, he’d pummel you and since he’s not, I’m just trying to look after his interests!”  Again, she struggled to get away, but Harry pushed back.

 

“What are you talking about?  I’m just doing what I was told to do.  You were there.  You know what the plan is, so, how can you lay this on me when I’m just following instructions?!”

 

“It doesn’t look like you’re just following instructions Harry and if you don’t let go of me, you’re going to be very sorry.”  Harry reflexively shifted to the side to protect himself from a possible knee in a very painful location.  Meanwhile, a little light flickered on in Harry’s mind.  He’d never understand girls, but he decided to test his theory.

 

Dropping his voice both in volume and octave, Harry released a wrist and moved his hand to her waist.

 

“Gin.  Are you jealous?”  He didn’t give her a chance to answer before moving on.  “Because you shouldn’t be.  Maybe I’m a bit overprotective sometimes and well, I love Hermione, but as a friend.  It’s not the same kind of love I feel for…” he gulped, unable to get out the last word.

 

Could he tell her that he loved her?  The sound of air rushing through his lungs, pausing at unsteady intervals left him speechless as her brown eyes melted him.  She was so beautiful and he wanted her to know how he felt, but that would mean putting her at risk again.

 

_We’ve been hanging around together since September and nothing has happened.  Maybe I’m wrong about this.  Besides, Hermione and I are putting on a pretty good show.  No one will suspect anything about Ginny and I if we’re careful.  Right?_

 

He wanted to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.  Her patience on the subject was admirable as she waited for a response.  Harry felt unable to voice his thoughts and he watched her brow furrow before she spoke.

 

“The love you feel for whom, Harry?”

 

Her posture was changing, softening.  Her hand slipped up to the nape of his neck and started playing with his hair.  It felt comforting at first, but then sent a chill down his spine.  He almost got lost in the feeling of bliss that was trickling down his neck, until he opened his eyes again and saw her still gazing intently at him.

 

“Gin.  I…I feel something when I’m around you, something that I haven’t felt before.  It’s all warm and tingly and makes my stomach flip around.  Little things like...like your hair falling in your face and the way you smile and the little dots of copper that are in your eyes, they all seem to drive me mad.  It’s just that….that I don’t know what it all means.”

 

“It probably means the same thing that it means to me when I feel warm all over just being near you, when your smile makes my heart skip a beat, when your touch sends little lightning bolts through my body.”

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel that with Hermione, just you.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Look, we have to keep acting for a while, until the end of school, but I was just wondering….could I…just this once…could I kiss you?”

 

She smiled.

 ***  

The very next day, Harry bolted through the portrait hole, dragging Hermione off into a corner where they spoke quietly for a few moments.  Ginny watched Harry’s nervous and excited posture.  He gestured wildly and Hermione nodded with a furrowed brow, taking in the conversation.  He made as if to turn toward the stairs, but Hermione grabbed his robe firmly and that was the only time she actually heard any of the conversation.

 

“No, Harry!”  He motioned for her to lower her voice and glanced toward Ginny and their eyes locked for a second before he turned back to Hermione and nodded once, as if in agreement.  She kissed him on the cheek, causing Ginny’s heart to beat a little faster.  It was illogical for Ginny to feel any jealousy toward Hermione and she knew it, but it sprang forth, none the less, without her instruction.  The little voice in her head had to keep repeating, _he loves you, he loves you, not her_.  

 

With all of the other people in the room, Ginny knew she couldn’t approach him and that the Harry/Hermione love affair story had to continue, at least for the time being.  So, she sat still as Harry left for the dorms and Hermione came back to her books.  Ginny waited for what she thought was an acceptable amount of time before casually packing up her books, yawning and wandering over to Hermione’s table.

 

Assured that no one was near enough to hear, she didn’t waste any time.  “So, what’s going on with Harry?”

 

Hermione gave a cursory glance around the room and then spoke while keeping her head down on her textbook.  “We think he’s found something that he was looking for.  Something he and Dumbledore had been researching.”

 

“We?”

 

“Yes, well, I’ve been helping with the research and he wanted to confirm something with me.”

 

“So, then, why did you say ‘No’ to him so loudly?”

 

“It’s just that he’s anxious to go and look for this item, but I convinced him to wait until Ron gets back and they can go together.”

 

Ginny’s focus turned toward the staircase, knowing full well that it wasn’t likely Harry would wait for Ron’s return.  Tempted to add her own argument to the discussion, Ginny was about to ascend the boy’s staircase when Seamus and Dean both passed her, heading up themselves, quelling her attempt.

 

Arriving in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, Ginny felt almost bereft without Ron, Hermione or Harry present.  She found Colin Creevey and they chatted a bit over their food before leaving for class.  This particular days’ schedule was very heavy and Ginny never made it back to Gryffindor House until after four o’clock.  Dragging in her heavy rucksack, she immediately scanned the room for Harry or Hermione.  Finding neither, she started to inquire casually amongst the other school mates, if they had been seen.

 

Seamus mentioned saving seen Hermione on the fourth floor corridor about an hour prior, but no one had seen Harry.  Trying to look as disinterested as possible, Ginny put her books away in her room and headed toward Professor McGonagall’s office, taking her along the fourth floor corridor.  Coming around the corner, she was met by a hard shoulder and fell back.

 

“Oh, sorry!”

 

“Ginny!  What are you doing here?  I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

 

Ginny got back on her feet, rubbing the spot on her chest that had been met by Hermione’s shoulder.  “No, I’m fine.  Actually, I was looking for you.”

 

It wasn’t until then that she noticed Hermione’s unsettling demeanor.  She nervously bit her lip and shifting on her feet.  “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

 

“Oh, um….well….oh….” she kept on moving and now her face betrayed her emotions, displaying panic and concern.

 

“Hermione.  What is it?”

 

“It’s Harry.  He went and left the castle.  That idiot!  I told him to wait until Ron got back, but he took off on his own!”

 

“I knew it!  I just had a feeling last night that he wouldn’t listen to you.  I should have listened to my own instincts and gone up to talk to him.”

 

“I was sure that he was convinced to wait.  I’m going to kill him when he gets back!”

 

“Did you tell McGonagall?”

 

“Yes.  Well, I told her that Harry was going to be gone from the castle for a while, but I can’t tell her why.  Ginny, I have to go find him.  I can’t let him go alone.”

 

“Do you even know where he is?”

 

“Sort of, yes.  I know where he was going to start his search.”

 

“Hermione, he could be gone from there by now and you shouldn’t go alone.”

 

They continued their discussion, walking back toward their house, both wanting to go and help and neither wanting the other to go.  Hermione was careful not to give Ginny too much information.  The conversation was guarded at times, but Ginny did get her to reveal a few items and she almost slipped once, revealing just part of a name, nothing that made any sense, but Ginny filed it away for future reference.

 

Three days passed and Harry didn’t return, leaving the girls more and more concerned.  In a brief moment of distraction, Hermione was pulled away from her books one evening, giving Ginny the opportunity to glance at the parchment on the table, noting a few more names, one the name of a village near Birmingham.  Ginny decided to give Harry one more day and if he didn’t return, she was heading out after him.

 


	14. Chapter 14 - Apart and Together

Flying to Hogsmeade had been the first step.  Then he hid his broom and caught the Knight Bus for a jostling ride north to complete the initial leg of his journey.  Twice he considered trying to Apparate, but the fear of a severe splinch put a stop to that notion.  After catching another train, he made his way to Birmingham and then set out by catching a ride on a Muggle truck, finally completing the trek on foot.  It took him twelve hours just to get to where he was at the moment.  The research pointed him toward a small village just outside Birmingham, supposedly the home of a favorite niece of Rowena Ravenclaw.  Harry didn’t know her name, only that she lived in a small frame house at the end of a narrow lane in this village and that Rowena would visit her occasionally.  The inhabitants of this village appeared to be mostly Muggle but he had learned that a squib and two wizarding families lived in the area.

 

The narrow dirt road seemed to lead on forever, winding through the countryside, full of holes and ruts.  Any auto attempting to travel this route would surely get jarred to pieces.  Tall grass lined both sides of the road, with what appeared to be farming fields nearby.  Each contained the remnants of fences and the familiar rows of dirt that had been freshly tilled in preparation for the spring planting season.  It was warm and sunny this day, but dark clouds were building quickly to the west and the wind was increasing.  Harry realized the urgency in completing this trip and finding shelter soon.  At least for the time being, he could see clearly as he approached two buildings set off the road.  One appeared to be a barn and Harry assumed there was a house nearby that went with it.  On the right, a partial brick building in very poor condition slumped with a worn sign dangling out from a wrought iron frame attached to the front.  Harry heard the sound of a cow mooing nearby, but couldn’t see any animals.  In fact, he couldn’t see much due to a huge tree providing shade over the road as it wound through the tiny hamlet.  Harry spied a sign up ahead that he hoped would identify the road, but as he got nearer, he noticed the lettering was worn off and unrecognizable.

 

“Can I help you, son?”

 

Harry spun around at the sound of a human voice coming from his left.  She looked quite old, but strong, and held a broom in her hand with a sure grip.

 

“Oh, hello.  Yes, um, I’m looking for Crescent Circle.  Could you point me in the right direction?”

 

“Crescent Circle, hey?”

 

Harry nodded observing the clean, but ragged clothes on the petite lady.  Her gray hair sat atop her head in a sloppy bun.  She looked a bit confused and held on to her broom as if it were more than just a means to a clean porch.

 

“I don’t think you want to be going in that direction.”

 

“Why is that?” he asked, looking around for any signs of danger or other village inhabitants.

 

“Strange things have happened on Crescent Circle.  Strange.  Years ago.  A family lived there, but they had all kinds of odd comings and goings.  It wasn’t normal, I tell you.  Folks around here believe the house was haunted.”

 

“Where is the house?”

 

“I’m telling you son, you’ll want to be keeping away from there.  It’s for your own good.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am.  I appreciate your advice, however, I have some business with this land and I need to inspect the home site.”

 

It was the best lie Harry could think up on short notice.

 

“Oh, are you with the farm bureau?”

 

“Um, yes, a branch of it, now if you could…”

 

“Very well, it’s just down the road a spit, past the dead tree, fork to the left and on 'til you come to the red rock.”

 

“Red rock?”

 

“That’s what we call it around here.  Now, you be careful.”

 

Harry nodded and following her instruction, continued down the road, looking for a dead tree and a fork to the left.  It didn’t take long before Harry found the rock.  It was indeed red, curiously red for a rock.  Scanning the area, the remains of a stone foundation were evident, along with about five feet of what used to be a fireplace and chimney.  Harry’s attention was drawn to another splash of color, another red rock to his right and then as he panned the entire area, he spied three more.  Something felt odd and he instinctively drew his wand.  It wasn’t obvious, standing at eye level, but there seemed to be a pattern to the position of the rocks and just realizing this made Harry’s hair stand on end.

 

Taking one step back, he heard the change under his feet from the crunch of pebbles to the softer mash of grass.  Glancing down, he saw more of the shadowed foundation jutting up through the leaves.  Following it around the plot, he came to what must have been the base of the entry way at one point.  Then to his astonishment, one of the stones glowed, following by a second one and then a third.  The glowing stones kept appearing and Harry followed them as the rain started to fall.

 

*** 

 

It seemed that the heavens opened up over England the very next day.  The promise of spring showers was fulfilled; a deluge soaked the countryside.  The farmers were thrilled and the plants would soon be in bloom from the life giving moisture, but all it did for Ginny was put more gloom into her already troublesome day.

 

Harry still hadn’t returned.  This should have been a quick trip.  Three days passed and both Hermione and Ginny were becoming frantic, each asking permission to leave the grounds to look for him.  Hermione went straight to McGonagall, knowing of her understanding that she, Ron and Harry would be coming and going throughout the year.  However, after explaining the situation, the headmistress convinced Hermione that going alone and going as a trio were two entirely different scenarios.  She just could not allow her to leave by herself and with Ron away, there was no one else to accompany her.  Again, McGonagall asked for information on his whereabouts, but Hermione refused and actually went so far as to track down Remus and attempt to casually inquire if he had any friends in the Birmingham area.  Of course, she had to use a somewhat silly cover story about tracing her family history, but Remus provided no help.  Hermione never told Ginny any specifics, but agreed to allow her to help find Harry.  Twice the girls tried to leave together, both times being intercepted by a teacher and told to turn around and return to their dorms, once with the convincing use of a wand.

 

However, this night, the girls finally got lucky when all of the boys were out of the seventh year dorms at once, Hermione having lured Neville to the greenhouse.  Ginny tried twice before, but had been unable to get into the room without being caught.  This time, she made quick work of searching Harry’s room for the invisibility cloak, but discovered, not surprisingly, that Harry had taken it with him.

 

So, tip toeing back down the steps, she headed for Professor McGonagall’s office, whipping up a false set of tears and begging that she be allowed to Floo over to her parents for just a little while.  After making sure that Molly was at Order headquarters, McGonagall gave Ginny a one hour pass with instructions that she had to return via Floo by nine o’clock sharp.

 

Ginny arrived at Grimmauld Place and launched into a well-rehearsed speech regarding Ron’s safety and her fears for him, all of which was true, just not the purpose of her trip.  Hermione, meanwhile, had owled Mad Eye, telling him to come to headquarters with his invisibility cloak and that it was urgent.  Other than Harry, Mad Eye was the only other person that had such a cloak and at this point Hermione was desperate enough to break a few rules.  She didn’t sign the letter, but wrote it in a familiar style that she knew he would recognize.  At quarter past eight, Mad Eye appeared, laying his cloak across the chair as he went to find Molly and ask what was going on.

 

This was when Ginny made her move.  She came down from the loo, placing her own robes over Mad Eye’s cloak and went into the kitchen.

 

“Well, Molly, it certainly looked like your handwriting.  Who else would have sent it?”

 

“I certainly don’t know, Alistair.”

 

“We might have a spy in our midst.”  Mad-Eye was about to rise and take his leave when Ginny put on the best performance of her life.  She played the whole gamut of emotions, anger, frustration, fear, pain and finally crippling sadness as she begged for them to bring her brother back home.  She put forth every argument and every emotion until she had them all convinced how upset and worried she was about his mission.  Finally, in what had to be described as the piece de resistance of her portrayal, she ran from the room, crying, scooping up her robe, with cloak underneath, and bolted for the fireplace.

 

Professor McGonagall was waiting when she returned and with a calm face and pleasant demeanor, Ginny explained how she felt much better and was going to head off to bed.  It only took about ten paces down the corridor before she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and disappeared to the eye.  Moving cautiously through the greenhouse, she picked up supplies that Hermione had left for them.

 

Ginny tried to convince Hermione that, as Head Girl, she should stay at the castle and let Ginny go out to look for Harry.  After much debate, in which Hermione insisted they go together, Hermione gave Ginny the information on how to find Harry.  Ginny pulled a fast one, wishing only to keep her friends safe and left a quick apology for Hermione on her pillow before she took off on her own.  

 

Traveling in a similar manner to Harry, she made her way toward Birmingham, part on the train, part on foot.  The rain continued for the next two days, only breaking occasionally to settle on a slight mist.  Ginny had prepared herself with a waterproofing spell on the cloak that helped to keep most of her dry, only her boots getting a bit soaked in the mud and wet grass.

 

*** 

 

Harry opened his eyes to a confusing sight.  The ground appeared below him, far below him.  In fact, he took a moment to make sure he wasn’t hovering on his broom.  The first thing he realized was his inability to move his arms or legs.  Then his nerve endings communicated a rather odd stretching sensation in his limbs. Finally, he noted the way his wet clothing clung to him as water dripped off his fringe, crashing onto the mat of brown fall leaves and pebbles below.

 

How he got into this position seemed an enviable question, for whoever could answer it would _have_ to be a wizard or at the least a master engineer just to organize the stunt.  The abraded skin on his wrists and burning ankles were the result of magical and non-magical ropes used to bind him.  These ropes stretched to nearby trees, leaving him stretched face down, hovering just above the branches and thereby obscuring him from view.

 

Harry replayed the events in his mind.  He had followed the stones and found the quill, the one Rowena Ravenclaw had given to her niece, the one that the research said would point him to the location of her wand, a supposed horcrux.  With any luck, it was still safely stowed in his pocket.  He recalled a funny snapping noise and then he sprung into the air.  That was all he remembered.

 

He scanned the area and listened for any activity, any physical presence, but finding no one, he began to test the ropes, pulling each in turn to analyze its strength.  The stinging rope burns forced him to stop.  It was in this position that he remained for the next eight hours as the rain continued to soak his tethered form.  It wasn’t long until he began coughing and feeling quite weak.  With nothing to look at except the ground below and with a fever starting to take over his system, Harry began hallucinating, the leaves taking the shapes of different people and places.

 

During one of these ground searching moments he spied what looked like his wand.  A brief burst of wind blew some of the wet leaves about and he saw the familiar handle.  His voice now hoarse from coughing and with his body shivering from the effects of the weather and his ever increasing fever, Harry sucked in a rattling breath and called out “ _Accio_ wand.”  To his amazement, it flew directly into his hand, but his numb fingers wouldn’t function and it fell back to the ground.

 

He repeated the command, this time wrapping a finger around it as tightly as he could and his fever-wracked brain tried to recall a charm that would cut the magical and Muggle ropes.  The first one to release was his left arm and he fell, his head now lower than the rest of his body, putting more strain on his right shoulder and wrist that was struggling to hold the wand.

 

With all the remaining strength he could muster, he pulled himself up and transferred the wand to his left hand, his body falling back down in exhaustion from the effort.  A coughing fit overtook him and he barely regained his breath in time to call out another charm.  This released his right leg, flipping him over to face the cold, stinging rain.

 

Almost free, it took him another moment to work up the energy to cut the rope from his other leg and finally from his remaining arm.  Unable to halt his descent, he fell sharply to the ground, his leg crashing against a rock that had jutted out from the earth.  The striking pain that ripped through his shin made him scream out as his mouth tried to suck in air, only to inhale wet leaves and mud.  

 

He struggled to focus his thoughts, but the ceaseless pain made it extremely difficult to cope.  Nothing appeared clear anymore with the irritation on his wrists and ankles, the ache of a dislocated shoulder and constant throbbing in his shin.  To top it all off, his lungs seemed incapable of accepting a deep breath without his body launching into uncontrollable coughing spasms.  Only the most rudimentary survival instincts worked, pushing him to crawl back to the lady at the house.  Surely, she would help him, if he could just get to her.  Managing to raise himself to his knees, he crawled, his injured leg trailing behind, one arm useless in what he hoped was the correct direction.

 

After what seemed like hours, but was indeed only about fifteen minutes, Harry found himself under a small lean-to that appeared to double as a wood shed and collapsed.  It was only a roof on some stilts, but at least it afforded him some protection from the rain.  Shivering through his rasping breaths, Harry’s mind wandered through images of his friends and what they were doing.  Soon his hallucinogenic ruminations settled on Ginny.  Visions of his girl, her flowing red hair, her warm smile; they almost masked the chill in his bones.  It was with this image in mind, that delirium gave way to sleep.

 

*** 

 

It had been a long trip through torrential rain most of the way, but Ginny finally found what she thought was the village Harry had been looking for.  It appeared deserted, but she decided to look around anyway, still hidden under the cloak and holding her wand steady in her hand.

 

Her feet were soaked, but the rest of her remained dry and somewhat warm through the use of almost continual warming spells during her trip.  It seemed rather inconsequential, glancing at her muddy boots, for the thought of Harry in danger pressed her forward.  For the briefest of moments, she contemplated what she would do if she failed in her quest to locate him.  She shook her head, refusing to consider the fact that she might have to return to Hogwarts without him before the next day.

 

Cautiously, she looked in the barn and peered through the windows of the small building with the dangling sign.  Seeing no one, she opened a gap in her robe and, hiding behind a tree, called out for him.

 

“Harry!  Harrrryyy!”

 

Listening carefully, she watched for any movement, but also realized that Harry had taken his invisibility cloak and he might be right behind her and she would never know it.  Surveying the area for any shift in the air, something that might indicate his cloak, she called out again.  Unexpectedly, she heard someone cough.  Spinning around to the source of the sound, she cried his name again and shuffled through the bed of leaves, finally spying a pile of firewood under a small awning.  Again, a hacking sound broke through the rain and now she knew someone was near.  Pulling the cloak tightly around her to ensure invisibility, she headed toward the sound.  Upon rounding the stack of logs, she spotted him.  Rain soaked his hair and face; his oddly positioned body lay slumped over a wood pile.

 

“Oh, my God!”  Dropping to her knees, the cloak fell away as she ran her hands over his face.

 

“Harry!  Harry, can you hear me?!”  She slapped his cheeks, sensing the heat radiating through his clammy exterior.  A cursory glance of his crumpled form revealed a bloody leg, raw looking wrists and wave after wave of shaking convulsions.

 

“Harry, it’s me, it’s Ginny.  What’s happened to you?”  

 

Quickly scanning the area, she decided to move him and pulled him out from under the modest shelter.  A levitation spell aided her and Harry soon floated in the air.  She kept her concentration on the spell, determined not to drop him as she reached for her cloak, her eyes never leaving Harry’s limp body.  With as much speed as she dared, she levitated him back to the old brick building that appeared to have been a drinking establishment in its prime.  Unbelievably, the pub was locked and she had to set him back down before using her wand to release the door.  

 

Floating him into the building, she discovered it wasn’t all that much better than being outside.  The roof leaked, the windows were cracked, letting no small amount of breeze into the room and the floor was covered in dirt and debris.  However, they at least had some form of shelter, giving Ginny time to consider her options.

 

Finding an area that wasn’t covered in water or directly under a leak, Ginny carefully laid him down and tried again to awaken him, both magically and not.

 

“Harry.  Please wake up.  You’re burning up!”  She ran a series of drying spells over his trembling body and kept this up for nearly twenty minutes, alternating with warming spells around them.  The duration of each was short and Ginny did her best to focus her magic to keep them warm and dry as possible.  

 

It was starting to get dark outside and she resigned herself to the fact that they were going to be staying here for the night.  Harry was still out.  Seating herself on the floor, she lifted his head up onto her lap and using her cloak, wrapped the two of them up, effectively camouflaging them from anyone who might happen by.  A long night stretched before them and she sat with him, stroked his face and tried to keep him warm for the rest of the night.

 

*** 

 

When Mad-Eye discovered his cloak missing, he immediately went looking for Ginny, thinking she had accidentally taken it, but it wasn’t long before he discovered her ulterior motives.  Soon, the hunt was on.  Molly and Arthur mobilized the Order and set out to search for her.  Hermione felt torn.  She wanted them safely back, yet she knew that Harry would never want her to divulge his location if he was this close to finding a horcrux.  Knowing that Ginny was prepared and stocked, she decided to give her a bit of time before offering any clues to their whereabouts.

 

Hermione sat in the window seat of her dorm room, watching the continued precipitation pound the glass.  Her thoughts were on their safe return, even as her eyes stared into the night sky.  A click of the door handle preceded the voice of her roommate, Parvati.

 

“Hermione?”  Finding Hermione’s bed empty, Parvati glanced around the room.

 

“Yes?  I’m over here.”

 

“Oh, um…I just thought you’d like to know that Ron is back.  They released him from the hospital.”

 

She shot straight up from the small seat.  “What?!  Where is he?”

 

“He’s in the Common Room.”

 

Hermione was ready to bolt from the room at full speed, but tried to keep herself under control as she passed her dorm mate.

 

“Hermione, look, I know how you feel about Harry, but I really don’t think Ron deserved that and well, just, look…can’t you two just get along?”

 

“Oh, yeah, well, Harry didn’t really mean that.  It was a spur of the moment thing and he’s already apologized.  So, it’s fine, really.”

 

Parvati nodded as Hermione scampered down the steps.  That bright red hair could be spotted easily from across the room.  She wanted to run up and kiss him, but wasn’t sure if their little charade had to continue so as he turned to smile at her, she settled for offering him a hug and a small peck on the cheek.  He looked disappointed in her greeting, but his smile returned a second later.

 

“Hermione!”

 

“Ron.”  She pressed a hand to her chest as if trying to slow her thudding heart.  “Welcome back.  God, I’m so glad you’re here!”  Five days of persistent worry suddenly transcended any thoughts of stealth behavior and her arms wrapped around him as she buried her head in his chest.  Ron witnessed her reaction, his expression alternating between joy and concern.  Finally, she pulled back from him and spoke in a whisper.

 

“Harry and Ginny are missing.”

 

“What?”  His voice was low.  “What do you mean, missing?”

 

Grabbing his arm, she took him away from the throng of students to a back corner.

 

“Harry went out on a Horcrux hunt about four days ago.  I tried to convince him to wait for your return, but he snuck out.  When he didn’t come home after several days, Ginny and I tried to go after him, but I couldn’t get out.  Ginny managed to sneak out of the castle earlier today.  I’m so worried, Ron.  I don’t know what to do.”

 

Surprisingly, Ron kept his volume down.  “I’m going to have some stern words for that little sister of mine when I find her.  Harry, well, he’s Harry and I’m not surprised, but I’d still think he’d have a bit of sense in him.”

 

“Harry was heading toward a small village near Birmingham.  Ron, it’s pouring rain outside and getting dark fast.”  Her fear was evident, but more so, she ached to fall into Ron’s arms, needing comfort desperately.  Ron must have felt the same for he quickly looked around the room and finding his bunk mates all present he walked over to Dean and Neville, both sitting nearby.  

 

“Hey, mates.”

 

“Hey, Ron.  Good to have you back.  Feeling better?”

 

“Yeah.  Good as new.  Listen, Hermione and I, we need some place to talk in private, you know, um…work out this whole thing with Harry.  Could we use our dorm room?  I mean, do you mind giving us some time alone?”

 

Neville shot a look to Dean who then turned to Seamus who had walked up during the last part of the conversation and piped in.  

 

“Yeah, Ron, actually that’s probably a good idea.  You guys need to figure this out before Harry shows up and tries to beat the living lights out of you again!”

 

“Actually, Harry and I have talked, but I need to work things out with Hermione.  So?”

 

“Go ahead mate.”  Seamus smirked and muttered, “Work things out…yeah.”

 

Without wasting another second, Ron gestured for Hermione to head up the steps. The door to the dorm room had barely shut behind them before Ron wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him in one strong move and pressed his lips against hers, his hand tangled in her hair.  He crushed her to his body and Hermione gave out a little squeak as he pushed all the air out of her lungs with his kiss.

 

“God, I missed you.  I just couldn’t wait any longer to do that.”  His grin seemed to have the effect of removing all the bones in her legs, for she felt truly weak just as he released his hold on her.  She knew that the look of shock on her face contradicted the burst of pleasure she had just endured, the one that left her breathless before she finally broke into a smile.  Ron appeared stunned when she lunged back at him, throwing her arms around his neck and returning his intimate gesture.  As she stretched to reach him, he lifted her firmly off the ground, bringing her face more even with his.

 

This exchange elicited even more passion than the last and Hermione could sense that he was smiling at her through the kiss.  A moment later, he set her back down and reached up to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, his countenance wavering from a faint smile to a soft look of desire.  Only able to tolerate this for a moment, Hermione forced herself to look away and cleared her throat in an effort to regain some composure.

 

Ron winced as he pulled his arms away from her.  He tried to recover quickly, but Hermione noticed his pained expression.

 

“What is it?  Are you hurt?”  Her hands returned to his arms searching for the source of his discomfort.

 

“It’s nothing.  Just a burn I got on my arm.  It’s still a little painful.”

 

“Let me see.”  She already had hold of his wrist and pulled him toward her.  She offered a strong expression that clearly indicated that he had better cooperate and he slowly rolled his sleeve up to reveal a red and black area on the inside of his elbow.  Holding his sleeve in place with her fingers, her thumbs carefully caressed the skin around the offending area.

 

With widened eyes, she shook her head.  “Wow.”

 

“It’s just a scar.  It’ll fade.”

 

She straightened his arm a bit and pulled him toward the light so she could look closer.

 

“Don’t you think it’s strange that a burn would cause such a symmetrical scar?”

 

“Yeah, well, it is kind of…interesting, I suppose.”  He finally pulled his arm back and rolled his sleeve back down.  Hermione wanted to look at the scar some more, but she could sense Ron’s unwillingness to continue at the moment.

 

“So, um….”  She shifted a bit and finally met his eyes.  “What are we going to do about Harry?”

 

Ron slipped his hands into his pockets, something that Hermione sensed as a means to keep from touching her, but it also seemed to offer him a bit of composure.  “Yeah, okay, so, tell me exactly when he left and where he was heading.”

 

Hermione relayed all of the information she could, hoping that Ron would come to some new conclusion, formulate some new strategy that she hadn’t thought of and they’d figure out how to help Harry and Ginny.

 

After about fifteen minutes, they emerged from the dorm room and Ron headed straight to McGonagall’s office, intent on convincing her of his intent to go after Harry and Ginny.  After all, he had gone out on two missions for the Order and Hermione agreed that she couldn’t say that he wasn’t capable of handling himself and being on his own.

 

Seated on  the cold stone floor in the corridor, Hermione looked up as Ron exited the office.  She got to her feet quickly, examining his face for an answer to the million questions she had, but he just shook his head and started striding off.  Hermione followed in his wake.

 

“Ron!  What did she say?”  She had to match his long strides two for one and after about a minute, she was getting breathless.  “Ron!”  Coming to a full stop, she watched as he continued down the hallway, only to stop about ten paces later and run his hands through his hair and then put his hands on his hips as he stood with his back to her.

 

She heard him say something, but with his back to her and his distance from her, it was just a mumble.

 

“What did you say?” she asked to his back.

 

Now facing her, he repeated, “I said…she won’t let me go after them.  I shouldn’t have asked.  We should have just left, but now that she knows she said she’ll be watching and should I make a single move to leave…”  He paced as Hermione started moving again, bringing herself within a few steps of him.  

 

“It’s going to be dark in a little while.”

 

“I know, I know.  The rest of the Order is out searching for them.  We’re supposed to stay put.  Of course, we know where he is and they don’t.”

 

“Yes, but you know we can’t tell them what Harry is doing.  God, I hope Ginny has found him.”

 

“Hermione.”  Ron stood staring out a window at the increasing blackness.

 

“Yes?”

 

“If she isn’t back in the morning, we have to either find a way out of here or tell them where to look.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

*** 

 

Ginny let Harry sleep for a few hours, his coughing fits trying to wake him occasionally.  She did her best to stay awake and alert and to keep Harry covered and warm.  He still wasn’t coherent and kept mumbling, but not making any sense.  Eventually sleep overtook her.

 

Just before daybreak, Ginny was startled awake by a loud noise and found Harry standing next to her, holding his wand in his hand and shakily pointing it toward the door.  As her eyes followed his line of sight, her heart leapt into her throat upon seeing the hooded figure in the doorway.  She was about to jump to her feet when she realized that she was still lying under the invisibility cloak and that the intruder probably didn’t see her.  

 

Harry wasn’t looking very steady, but he was holding his ground.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Hold on there mate.”  The hooded figure was holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner and took a tiny step toward Harry.  Ginny couldn’t tell who this was, but his voice sounded familiar.  Still he did have a wand in his hand, although it was pointed at the floor.

 

“I’m not your mate, and if you take another step, you may find yourself on the wrong end of a very painful curse.”

 

Ginny started crawling very slowly behind Harry in an effort to remain concealed.  The conversation between the two men continued, but Ginny only focused on getting herself behind the intruder.  She searched her pockets, but couldn’t find her wand.  She’d had it just hours before and she quickly scanned the room, but didn’t see it.  She could still do something to help, even without a wand, if she acted quickly.  She knew that Harry wasn’t going to hold out for long.  Daring to glance up at him as she moved into position, she noted his blood-shot eyes, the perspiration on his brow and his wavering, sickly stance.

 

Slowly drawing the cape off of her face, she hoped Harry would notice her without giving away their advantage.

 

“You don’t look very well.  I think you should just put that wand down.”  The visitor’s voice was menacing as he continued to approach and Ginny could see Harry’s strength was waning.

 

The two men stood only about six feet apart and Ginny knew she had to act, so she waited until the man started to make his move on Harry and then she wrapped her arms around his legs and he fell forward, narrowly missing Harry.  He tried to call out a spell, but started coughing and couldn’t get the words out.

 

“Harry!  Wand!”  Ginny screamed and Harry did the only thing he could, he threw the wand at Ginny and jumped on top of the man, attempting to hold him down.  With his depleted strength, he wouldn’t last for long, but he obviously hoped to give Ginny that fraction of a second to use her magic to subdue the man.  Pointing the wand at the man’s legs at close range, she called out “Stupefy!” and he went still.

 

Harry rolled off of him, still coughing almost to the point of choking and remained lying on the floor, clutching his chest.  Ginny quickly bound the man with magical ropes and then moved to the doorway, wrapping herself back in the invisibility cloak and scanning the exterior of the building for anymore danger.  Upon seeing no one, she moved quickly back to Harry, stowing his wand in her pocket and helping him to his feet.

 

Hearing the scraping sound of metal on wood, they both looked down and Ginny bent to pick up a golden quill.  Harry reached over as if to take it from her, but in his weakened state ended up just squeezing his hand around hers and rasping out instructions. 

 

 “I mustn’t loose this.  It’s very important.  Hide it.”  Ginny gave him a curious look, but took the quill and placed it securely in her robe pocket.  She was about to question it some more when she thought she heard noises through the brush.

 

“Harry.  We have to get out of here.  There may be more people coming.  Come on, now.  You’re going to have to walk.”  

 

“Who is he?” Harry asked feebly, motioning toward the fallen man.

 

Ginny slowly approached the man, intent on pulling the hood off of his face, but another noise from behind the building drew her attention away.

 

“Harry, we have to go!”

 

She wrapped the cloak around him and attempted to support his weight with an arm clutching his waist.  Still examining the room, Ginny finally noticed her wand that had rolled into a crack on the floor and quickly scooped it up.  Once Harry was up, she pointed her wand straight ahead and they left the building, quietly moving back down the road, using trees and shrubs for cover and watching behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed.

 

It was a long trek, with Harry nearly collapsing several times, but they got back to the train station.  Harry shivered violently as she held him close in the train compartment during their ride back toward Hogwarts.  The quill lay safe in her pocket, but she was much more concerned about the safety of the man in her arms.

 


	15. Chapter 15 - An Unlikely Friendship

 

He was warm, but not uncomfortably warm, and his head was lying on something soft.  With his eyes still closed, he slowly began to listen to his surroundings and bring himself back to consciousness.  The murmur of male voices echoed in the distance, then a soft shuffling and then a door clicked shut.  Finally, he noticed a bit of light trying to press through his eyelids.

 

Turning his head to the left, he opened them just to a slit to view the cause of the noise and only saw an empty bed next to him with a folded blanket lying on top, then another bed and another.  The hospital wing.  It was such a familiar place for Harry and he actually felt relaxed and safe, just knowing Madam Pomfrey was nearby.  He allowed his eyes to drift shut again and rolled his head back when he heard another noise, a very quiet clearing of the throat.  Whoever this was, he was trying not to interrupt Harry’s sleep and he was sure it was Ron as he shifted to the right.

 

The sight before him was not as expected.  The unmistakable white blond hair gave it away.  Draco Malfoy sat in a chair, next to Harry’s bed, reading a book.  He looked up as Harry opened his other eye and stared in disbelief at his presence.

 

“Waking up, Potter?”  Draco asked, one brow arched, but with an otherwise blank expression.

 

His initial reaction was to tense and put himself on alert.  Even with Draco’s behavior over the past nine months, their history still made Harry wary whenever he saw him.  In his current state, Harry was an easy target and as far as he could tell, Draco was the only one with him.  Harry felt almost too exhausted to speak, but he couldn’t simply remain mute when Draco Malfoy was sitting this close.  Doing his best to show no trace of concern, he spoke.  It was slow and faint, but he got it out.

 

“I can honestly say you are the last person I expected to see when I woke up.”

 

“Yes, I would imagine.  Well, both Weasleys and Hermione have been by several times, but they had to go and Hermione asked if I would sit with you for a while.  So, here I am.”

 

“You said _both_ Weasleys?  Is Ron back?”

 

“That is correct.  I heard you put him in the hospital, which normally wouldn’t bother me, but I was still a bit shocked at your behavior.  It was very unlike you, Potter.”

 

Harry didn’t respond, but instead closed his eyes and turned back to look at the window directly across from him, scanning the room one more time.  He could sense that Draco was still watching him, making him very uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

 

Draco moved to the edge of the chair.  “Are you feeling better?”

 

“A bit.  Just really tired and my leg kind of aches.”

 

“I know it’s none of my business, but what were you doing out in the freezing rain for days on end?  From what I heard, you have a nasty case of something called pneumonia; it has something to do with fluid in your lungs.”

 

“I’m not surprise…..” and he began coughing again.  It was deep and painful, causing him to roll to his side and hold his rib cage.  Every time he coughed it seemed to suck the air from his lungs, leaving him weak all over.  As he choked out another hacking breath, he felt the mattress shift and a warm hand on his back and then a pillow pushed into his stomach.

 

“Here, hold this against your ribs.  It will help.”

 

Harry pulled the pillow close as the coughing spell continued for another few seconds.  Finally, the spasms subsided and he started to sit up, still feeling that hand on his back and then there was a glass of water in front of him.  He took it and swallowed down a few sips, finally settling back into his bed.  He didn’t speak for another minute, instead concentrating on breathing evenly and calming his sickened body.

 

“Thanks.”  It was really all he could manage at the moment.

 

Draco didn’t move, still perched on the side of the mattress, watching him intently with an actual expression of concern on his face.  This really threw Harry for a loop.  Since when did Malfoy have concern over anything or anyone, besides himself?  However, look what had just happened.  Harry decided he must be a consummate actor.

 

“Better?”

 

Harry nodded and Draco finally got back up, moving to his chair.  Too worried that speaking would bring back the coughing fit, Harry opted to just stay quiet for a while and Draco didn’t speak either for several minutes.  However, his next comment truly came out of the blue.

 

“You know, I don’t hate you.”

 

Harry still didn’t speak, but turned to look at the young man beside him.  ‘Hate’ wasn’t a strong enough word to describe their storied relationship.  He loathed Draco and got the same, equally irritating animosity in return.  Of course he hated him!

 

“I mean, I’m not all buddy-buddy like Weasley, but I do actually think you have some decent qualities.  You still irritate me most of the time, but sometimes I think I actually…”

 

He stopped mid sentence, shaking his head as if to eliminate the thought from his head.  

 

Harry watched him and for a moment, Draco almost looked emotional, but he took a deep breath and seemed to put himself back in control.

 

“You actually what?”  Harry couldn’t help but ask.  Now he was getting really curious about Draco’s motives and he wanted to know more.  When he didn’t answer right away, Harry decided to continue.  “Draco, I am never going to get over what you did to Dumbledore, but… you seem to have changed some this year.  I just don’t think I can trust you.”

 

“I wouldn’t trust me either, if I were you.  I have a long history, through both my friends and family, with people who are specifically tasked to eliminate you.  I was never asked  to do this myself, however and if I were….”

 

“I’m laying here in a hospital bed.  If you wanted to get rid of me, now would be the time.”

 

“And I would be _rewarded,”_ he stressed that last word “for my efforts.  Unfortunately, I’ve learned about both the rewards and the punishments that accompany my association with…well…you know who.  And, the rewards are not that great and the punishments…they’re pretty extreme.”  He rubbed his arm remembering the silvery scars that still lingered under his sleeve.

 

“Then why do you associate with them?  Dumbledore offered you a way out last year.  You could have left, you could have joined the right side, but you didn’t.  You watched Snape kill him!”

 

“How do _you_ know that Dumbledore offered me that?  It was just me and him.”

 

“I was there.  I was hidden, but I heard everything.”  Harry bit his tongue, only now considering that perhaps he shouldn’t be revealing this, but the grief and anger associated with that night pushed the words out before he could stop them.

 

“Do you know what Voldemort does to people who disobey his orders?  You don’t live very long and if you do, it’s in considerable pain.  I was ordered to do it, but I just couldn’t and then Snape…”

 

“Yeah, I’m surprised you aren’t dead already.  I was shocked when the Wizengamot released you on probation, but I’m even more surprised to find that you’ve actually made it through the past year.  Your life is probably just as useless as mine as far as Tom is concerned.”

 

“You’d like to see that wouldn’t you?  It doesn’t matter if I apologize or how I act toward you does it?  Well, I’ll have you know that the Dark Lord punished me plenty last summer.  I wanted to die.  I did!  The pain was terrible.  Logically, I don’t know why I’m still here.  My father should be in Azkaban and I should be dead, but fate and happenstance have directed otherwise and I’m not going to question fate.”

 

Harry sat listening to this, his heart filling with renewed grief knowing what had been taken from him and listening to this boy tell of his woes.  It angered him so that he burst out with what breath he could manage.

 

“Dumbledore was a friend!  A friend and mentor.  You helped Snape to take him from me, just like Voldemort took my parents from me.  And now, I’m left to try and finish what we started all alone!”  At once, Harry realized he had let him emotions get the best of him and uttered more than he should have.  He tried to cover up his panicked expression and not relay to Draco that this information was of any value, but he sensed that Draco already knew he had just gleaned something of vital importance.  Draco let a moment of silence pass before he spoke again.

 

“It’s not an excuse, but I was scared and under a lot of pressure back then.  I didn’t want Dumbledore to die.  I’m sorry that he did.”

 

Harry couldn’t believe his ears.  An apology?  From Malfoy?  It was unheard of, but as he’d said earlier, he noticed a change in him this year.  Draco wasn’t looking particularly remorseful, but Harry had to consider, if only for a brief moment, that he might actually be genuine.

 

“Well, I guess I’m kind of protective of my friends.  Just like yours, they mean a lot to me.”

 

 “Speaking of friends.”  Draco paused, watching Harry’s focus changed back to him.  “Look, I realize this is being blunt, I mean really blunt…but I’d really like to know…are you in love with Hermione?”

 

Harry just rolled his head on the pillow and raised an eyebrow at Draco.

 

“Look, I know that’s a rather personal question.  It’s just that I’ve really started to,” he paused as if considering the appropriate word, “appreciate her… and I hate to see her unhappy.”

 

“What do _you_ think?”  Harry managed to rasp out, unwilling to give Draco any information.

 

“I’m not sure.  That’s the reason that I asked.  I’ve seen you together and, well, others agree with me that you look like a couple, but from talking with Hermione, I think she fancies the Weasel.”

 

“What do you mean, others?”

 

Draco hesitated and for the first time Harry thought he had caught him red-handed.  He suspected Draco had been passing on information.  How?  Well, that was the question considering his close monitoring.  He fully expected Draco to make up some little white lie to cover up any disclosures he may have made which is why Draco’s next statement shocked the hell out of him.

 

“I’ve been asked who is close to you and I’ve told certain parties that I thought Granger and you were an item.”

 

Draco was admitting it?  It took a moment to ease out of the shock of that realization itself before he felt a wave of fury rise in his chest.  He could slap himself for ever believing that Draco had a single good bone in his body.  He now knew that Draco had been spying on them and feeding information to Voldemort.  What stung more was the idea that Draco had befriended Hermione and he truly thought that Draco liked her.  Didn’t Draco know what his statements would do to her?  Harry knew that he needed to stay calm to prevent any more hacking fits.  He could already feel the tickle building in his throat and dreaded the oncoming sensation.

 

“Certain parties?  Don’t you realize how much danger you’re putting her in by telling them about us?  I should have known.  Why would I ever think you could be her friend?”

 

Draco looked down, studying his clasped hands as they fidgeted together.  “At the time I said it, it didn’t concern me that much.  I had to give some information and I thought it was kind of innocent, but yeah, I can see your point.”

 

  _He’s remorseful?!_   

 

Harry couldn’t help but ask the obvious question, the one that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for months now.

 

“Draco, exactly whose side are you on?!”  

 

As Harry raised his voice, the tremble in his lungs took over and he grasped his pillow back to his chest as he rolled to his right and nearly fell out of the bed.  Draco placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and he leaned into them, needing the support before Draco pushed him back onto the bed, again handing him the water.

 

“Here.  Drink this.  Maybe it will help.”

 

He held the glass up to Harry’s lips as the pillow was taking both hands to hold it in place.  Harry took a couple of sips between coughs, Draco placing a steadying hand on Harry’s back.

 

The large doors to the wing opened as Ginny walked in with Ron directly behind.  It only took a second for Ginny to burst into a run as she noticed Harry’s distress.  Draco must have felt that he was no longer needed as soon as Ginny reached the bedside and he set the glass back down on the table and stood up, moving away from the bed.  Without saying a word to Harry, he turned to exit, passing Ron on the way out.

 

*** 

 

Harry continued to recuperate, turning the quill over to Hermione who did more research on how best to test it.  Ron and Hermione kept working with it for weeks, but found themselves unable to get anything of value from it.  Ginny was not happy with Harry’s explanation of the quill, as it really wasn’t an explanation at all, but rather ended in an all too familiar, ‘You have to trust me.’  They told her that it had been destroyed, but never said why, Harry insisting she be kept out of it.  

 

Almost immediately, Hermione started coming in daily to review for NEWTS.  On more than one occasion Harry started to tell Hermione about Draco’s disclosure, but each time either they were interrupted or Harry felt the moment was wrong and he kept it to himself.  He had every intention on relaying this information to her, but before he knew it, testing was upon them.  Ginny spent hours helping him review and catch up on what he had missed and Hermione put Ron and him through their paces as the last few weeks of May passed.

 

It seemed to pay off as each one felt pretty good about their performance on the dreaded tests and soon, it was the Thursday before their final day and all four of them were out by the lake, laying in the grass, enjoying their last whole day at Hogwarts.

 

*** 

 

They had been very cautious about keeping their respective relationships under wraps.  As far as everyone at school thought, Harry and Hermione were still a couple.  However, as they sat here by the lake, Ron couldn’t take his eyes off of Hermione.  Their relationship had grown ever since his return, even with having to be rather secretive.  Hermione sat watching the giant squid skim across the lake and her eyes welled up with tears.  Throwing caution to the wind and seeing no one in view, Ron scooted over behind her and placed his arms around her waist, leaning down to whisper into her ear.

 

“What’s wrong, luv?”

 

She leaned back into him and allowed her head to fall against his chest.

 

“It’s just that I suddenly realized how much I’m going to miss this.  We’ve been through so much here, good and bad.”

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.  I’ll miss it, too.”  He placed a small kiss on her head and then let go and moved to his right, putting them all back in friendly proximity.  

 

Harry sat near Hermione in an obligatory manner, but Ron also noted how Harry’s conversation with Ginny was much more intimate, despite their subtle distance.  Ron was struck with the gravity of the moment, how their lives were changing in front of them, each looking out for the other, each loving the other and how they were all entwined.  He hoped that this closeness was something that would continue long after they left these grounds and he resolved, silently, that he would do everything in his power to make sure they remained close, supportive and loving toward one another, in good times and bad.

 

He was awakened from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps across the lawn and turned to see his least favorite person approaching.  Draco was casually sauntering down the hill toward them and Ron nudged Harry.

 

After Draco’s help in the hospital wing, Harry, though still very skeptical, had developed a modicum of friendship with the man.  Maybe friendship was too strong of a word, but he told Ron that he at least felt the tiniest hint of conscience from hm.  Harry did appreciate Draco’s help and stressed to Ron how he could have easily taken him out in the hospital, but chose to help instead.  However, Harry also told him that Draco had, in fact, been leaking certain information about them to other parties.  Ron fumed on this information for a while, but remarkably kept his temper in check, mainly due to Hermione’s influence.  Silent as he was, Ron watched Draco with an eagle eye, especially when in Hermione’s presence.

 

Hermione and Draco had become much stronger friends than the rest, but Hermione did not flaunt their friendship in front of the others.  It seemed very casual with friendly greetings, occasional sharing of school related notes and Ron had even witnessed some seemingly innocent conversations.  Still, Ron didn’t care for him in the least and especially not the way he acted around Hermione.  Despite the apologies Draco had offered Harry, Ron just couldn’t accept their sincerity.  In Ron’s opinion, Draco was a little too friendly and sometimes a little too close to Hermione for his liking, but after getting into this argument with her several times before, he was learning to hold his tongue or risk his own relationship with her.  So, as Draco approached, Harry offered a faint smile, but Ron kept a straight face.

 

“Malfoy, what brings you out here?”  Harry’s greeting caught Hermione’s attention and she swung around, a bright smile coming over her face as Draco approached the group on her side.

 

“Hello, Potter.” His greeting was cordial, but not warm.  “Hey, Hermione!”  This time his face brightened up and he offered a hand to pull her to her feet.

 

“Would you mind if we took a short walk?” Draco asked both to Hermione and to Harry.  Ron assumed Draco thought they were still a couple, hence his questioning look at Harry.

 

“Um…” Hermione was checking both Harry and Ron’s eyes.  He tried to look neutral, but he knew that Hermione was well aware of his disapproval.  “Yeah, I guess as long as we don’t go far.”

 

Draco turned to walk toward the lake’s edge and Hermione raised her brows at Ron who was rolling his eyes in his head.  It was the ‘ _don’t you start something now_ ’ look that Ron had seen many times before.  He just took a deep breath and waved her on, his way of saying ‘ _go ahead, if you must_ ’ and she turned to follow him.

 

Ron noted how Harry joined he and Ginny in their surveillance  -  a third set of trained eyes on the couple as they walked away.  

 

Ginny spoke first.  “I still don’t trust him, and neither should you two.”

 

To Ron’s surprise, Harry came to his defense.  “I don’t know, Gin.  He seems a changed person this year.  You’ve seen it as much as we have.”

 

“Don’t be so naïve.  He’s just a good actor!”  Ron cut in abruptly, eyeing Harry with a clear look of disgust.  They had agreed not to share everything with Ginny, but Harry certainly didn’t need to give Draco a vote of confidence.

 

Harry looked a bit ruffed at the ‘naïve’ comment, but continued on.  “Well, Ron, you can have your opinion, but I know he helped me when he didn’t have to and I really don’t think he’s all that bad.  Yes, Daddy’s a Death Eater, but I think Draco’s trying to get away from it all.”

 

“Believe what you like, but I agree with Ginny.”

 

*** 

 

Draco kept his hands in his pockets as Hermione joined him for a walk.  The day was beautiful with a gentle breeze, a sun warm on their skin, flowers in bloom everywhere.  It was truly a day to remember and Draco was feeling somewhat light.  He had, after all, survived the previous summer’s torture, a probationary stay at Hogwarts and actually finished and was leaving the next day, but to top it all off, he had actually made a friend in Hermione Granger.  Probably the first and only true friend he’d ever had.  If he allowed himself to admit it, his feelings for her were probably more than just friendly, but he didn’t allow himself to venture into this scenario with her.  They had kissed once and had several ‘close calls’ – those moments when he knew something was about to happen if one of them had had the courage to take action.  However, he also learned a valuable lesson in that keeping a friend like her was more important than trying to force a romantic relationship that might never pan out.  

 

Of course, the value of her friendship played into another role in his life.  Spy.

 

The whole other side of this vignette was the fact that after leaving Hogwarts, his largest form of protection would be gone.  Voldemort would expect a report.  Hell, he’d expect more than that and Draco had little to give him.  His support network was dwindling, only his mother’s limited abilities behind him.  His father was not in the Dark Lord’s good graces by any means and he recognized his little ploy to have Draco spy on the trio as just that – a means to an end.  Ever since that night on the astronomy tower, Draco had been battling with himself on how to supply the appropriate information and hence, keep himself alive, while still shielding Hermione from the possible repercussions.  He knew that Hermione was his one source of help amongst the trio and he couldn’t afford to lose her.  He had to establish a way to maintain his relationship with the girl.  He had worked too hard to gain her confidence.  Perhaps the summer would be a good time to work his way into her life a bit more.

 

They had walked about twenty yards away from the group, Draco being very aware that several sets of eyes were on him as they spoke.  However, when she smiled at him, a genuine, warm, friendly smile, it made him forget about anyone else in the area and he just focused on her.

 

“Hermione.  I wanted to talk to you before we left Hogwarts.”  He moved around so that his back was to the group and turned her to face him.  His hands slid out of his pockets and took hers, but she withdrew them quickly.  “I have to go back to Malfoy Manor for a little while this summer to appease my family, but I was wondering if maybe I could come and see you.  Maybe sometime in July?”

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

Her expression remained pleasant and friendly.  “Maybe we could talk some more or have a picnic or go to dinner.”  He took a small step closer to her.  

 

“Sure.”  She smiled, looking away and shaking her head for a moment.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just I can’t believe that I’m actually on friendly terms with Draco Malfoy, my most hated enemy since first year.”

 

“Yeah, well, the same could be said for me, but nonetheless, it has happened and I for one am very glad to have a friend like you.”

 

Glancing to her mouth, he knew his desires, but opted to leaned down and place a kiss on her cheek, finding her hand again and squeezing it as reinforcement.

 

“I’ll send an owl and we can plan a date.”  Hermione’s expression suddenly changed to a scowl.  Draco realized his slip of the tongue and quickly tried to correct.  “Not a date, date.  I mean, we can pick a day on the calendar to get together, not in the dating sense, just the platonic sense.”

 

“Just as long as you understand that.”  Hermione was increasing the distance between them and Draco nearly slapped himself for his faux pas.

 

  _One step forward, two steps back.  Draco, you idiot!_  

 

“Absolutely.”  He replaced his hands in his pockets.  “Well, I’ve got to go.  I have to finish packing before tomorrow’s departure.  So, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

*** 

 

Draco turned to walk back up the hill and Hermione watched him leave before heading back toward her friends.  The realization that she no longer felt that sense of disgust upon looking at his retreating form struck her as unfathomable, but definitely true.  Instead, she saw a somewhat lonely, frightened boy who was truly coming into his own.

 

As she approached their favorite tree, her focus moved back toward Ron and she almost stopped in her approach, seeing the look of anger, resentment and hurt on this face.  Despite his best efforts to act nonchalant about it all, Hermione knew that Ron didn’t trust Draco and seemed to question their relationship every time she and Draco spent any time together.  Once again, she had to build up his confidence and convince him of her feelings for him.  It was sad that this tall, handsome, loving and truly capable man was so insecure and lacking in self-esteem.  He dropped his eyes as soon as she met his glance and assumed a timid posture, his shoulders slumping as he played casually with a few blades of grass.

 

Hermione made a point of sitting near him and turning to place a warm kiss on his neck and whisper in his ear.  “Hey handsome.  I’m back.  Did you miss me?”

 

His faced lit up a bit and he offered a small smile as he twined his fingers with hers on the blanket and they enjoyed the rest of the afternoon together.


	16. Chapter 16 - His One and Only

  
Author's notes:

 

* * *

 

Breakfast, the next day, was pleasant, but there still was a lingering air of sadness.  Yes, they were leaving, finished with their education, but without Dumbledore there to wish them well, the whole day just didn’t seem right.  Security was extremely tight as the students began to gather for the trip home.  The Great Hall was a bit warm and stuffy, despite the cooling charms placed around the room.

 

Hermione was, not surprisingly, the top student in their class.  She was personally congratulated by several of the professors in the hall that morning.  A few special awards were announced with some students receiving more applause than others, but Harry was surprised that when his name was called all of Gryffindor House rose to their feet along with scattered other students and even Draco Malfoy applauded sending a small smile in his direction.  He was recognized for his efforts in protecting the school and its students during his years of attendance.  It was un-nerving, but the rest of the day proceeded in a rather normal fashion and Harry felt back to his usual self before long.  They were all aboard the Hogwart’s Express and back to London by days end.  Harry was delighted that he didn’t have to go back to the Dursley’s anymore and instead was invited to stay at the Burrow until he could find other housing.

 

Hermione’s parents had met her on the platform and she kissed and hugged them before telling them that she intended on spending some time with the Weasley’s and Harry and she would visit them soon.  So, by evening, the Burrow was much more full and active than it had been in months.  The atmosphere was light and happy as Mrs. Weasley had prepared a congratulations feast that everyone enjoyed immensely.  Ron, Harry and Mr. Weasley took turns playing several games of chess and Hermione and Ginny sat in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley discussing summer plans and where Hermione might like to go apartment hunting.  Hermione had received ten separate job offers before even walking out of Hogwarts and she was considering her options.

 

Ron had been watching Hermione all day, wanting to get a moment alone with her.  He knew that she intended on finding a flat somewhere in London and he wanted to make it clear that even though they might not be seeing each other everyday quite as much, that he wanted them to stay together.  It hadn’t struck him until that morning that they wouldn’t be with each other quite as much anymore and he suddenly panicked at the thought that they could drift apart.  He was determined not to let that happen, but there hadn’t been time to talk about, not even on the train.  It seemed they were always in the company of others.

 

So, now, after checkmating his last opponent of the evening, that being Harry, everyone started to head off to bed.  Ron took his time putting the chess set away, hoping that Hermione would walk through the room on her way to bed and he could pull her aside for a moment.  He finished with the chess set and decided to occupy himself with a small book when he finally heard the voices of his Mum and sister saying goodnight.  Hermione saw him sitting on the sofa and excused herself from the others, telling them she’d be up in a few minutes.  Ginny smiled and Molly winked at her as they walked up the stairs, leaving the two sitting alone in the parlor.

 

It happened again.  Increasingly, over the past four months, in fact.  It was hard to explain, even to himself, but his eyes seemed to grow warm and the air became thick and full of energy every time he found himself in her presence.  Ron recognized the fact that ever since her near death experience in February he’d felt a sense of soul stirring relief whenever he initially saw her.  It would soon fade and he’d return to the same level of comfort and normalcy.  Still, Ron couldn’t escape the sensation that hit him and the eerie tingle that assured it meant more than just teenage lust – much more.

 

“What are you reading?”  Her sweet voice drew him back from this thoughts.

 

“Oh…” he glanced down, “its nothing.”  He tried to casually tuck it between his side and the sofa cushions, but that seemed to instantly raise Hermione’s curiosity.

 

“You know, I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you just leisurely reading anything.”  Her fingers tapped the cover of her own book, held in front of her.

 

“I’ll have you know I read lots of things.”  He tried to covertly slip the book into his pocket.

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron.  Let me see.”  She snatched the book from his hand, her brow raised in surprise when she read the title.  “Wizarding Poetry Through the Ages.”

 

She turned up a questioning eyebrow.  “You’re reading poetry?”

 

“Well, yeah…ever since I bought you that book for Christmas and well, I started writing you poems and I kind of got hooked.”

 

“I don’t believe it.  Ron Weasley was sitting here reading poetry.”  Ron had turned a bright shade of red at her comments and she must have noticed for she quickly tried to correct herself.  “Oh, Ron, it’s alright.  I’m not trying to embarrass you.  I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

 

“Yeah, well, I was actually just waiting for you.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Will you sit down here with me?”  He patted the upholstery beside him and she sat beside him, the book still in her lap.

 

At first the words stuck in his throat and only gave out as a grunt of air, but he finally managed “Hermione.”

 

“Yes, Ron?”  

 

How is it that she always managed to look so calm and focused when he was agonizing over what to say.  He shifted a bit, working up his courage.  “Um…what are your plans for the future?”  This was followed by a large exhale that even Ron recognized as sounding rather like he had just managed a proposal and not a simple question.

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up.  “Wow.  Um…that’s a loaded question, Ron.”  Her finger traced over the design on her book cover as she glanced down to her lap.

 

“I mean, well…what I mean is…it’s just that I suddenly realized this morning, and yes I know I’m rather daft, but I realized that we might be going separate ways sometime soon.”  Even voicing his concern made his heart thump a bit harder.

 

“Separate ways?”  It took a moment but Hermione understood his concerns.  “Oh, I see.  And you were worried?”

 

“Well, yeah.  I mean, we’ve been…” he waved a hand between them “…us for so long.  I just can’t imagine not seeing you…and Harry everyday now that we’re out of Hogwarts.  I mean, I know things are going to change somewhat.  We’re growing up and starting careers and all that stuff.  It’s just that, well, I-I don’t want to loose you.”  He swallowed a huge lump down his throat and almost squeaked out.  “I want you in my life.”

 

Hermione’s head tipped to the side, a look of pure affection washing over her face and she raised her hand to stroke his cheek.  “I’ll always be a part of your life.”

 

Ron was so wrapped up in the moment; he truly didn’t know how to respond.  Her hand was so soft on his cheek and her eyes were heavy, drawing him deeper and deeper.  _Should he say something romantic?   Something light to lift the mood?  Should he say those three little words?  If he did, was he sure that he meant it? Would she feel the same way about him?_   She was so beautiful and yes, he was sure about how he felt and he was so afraid of loosing her.

 

“I-I just need to do something to…um…ensure that.”

 

Her hand dropped back to her lap and Ron reached out for it, lifting it to his mouth to kiss it before placing it firmly in his own.  “Hermione, I really think that what happened back in February…well, it was a sign.  You almost died and…”

 

“But I didn’t.  I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah and I’m…I’m just so thankful every day that you’re here…with me.”

 

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

Somehow, her warm smile and the crinkle around her eyes gave him the boost of courage he needed.

 

“I don’t think I ever formally asked you if you’d be my girlfriend.”

 

Her lips pressed together, even though her cheeks betrayed the happiness within.  “True.  So, are you asking now?”

 

“Yes.” He paused to gulp down what felt like mostly air.  “Would you be my girlfriend?” He continued a bit slower, emphasizing each word.  “My one and only, steady girlfriend?”  The volume of his beating heart increased ten fold while awaiting her response and his eyes shifted back and forth between hers.  It seemed ludicrous to be this nervous, as if she was going to say no.  A tiny remote corner of his psyche still toyed with his hopes, pressing a pin prick in his confidence.

 

Maybe he was imagining it, but Hermione’s eyes seemed to sparkle just a bit more than usual and suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed him.  It was soft and sweet and as she pulled her lips away, her eyes still closed, she whispered “your one and only.”

 

*** 

 

Anyone not knowing the history of the family that resided there would think that Malfoy Manor was the most beautiful, comfortable and warmest looking home they had ever seen.  Manicured lawns, perfectly trimmed hedges and the most exquisite foliage truly took the viewers breath away.  The white marble stairs leading up to the double oak and stained glass doors were magnificent.  Well, magnificent to anyone except for Draco as he instead dreaded taking every step toward his family home.  To him, it was a place of loneliness, servitude and cold, antiseptic life.

 

He had barely stepped off the Hogwart’s Express before an owl arrived with strict instructions that he was to get home as soon as possible.  His father had urgent business with him.  And so, here he was, standing at the gates.

 

He continued to rehearse as many possible scenarios as he could, what he would tell his father, the information he was prepared to share.  However, there was another discussion he had rehearsed and he hoped today would be the time to have it.  Passing the rows of hedges and rose bushes, Draco stopped for the first time since being a very young boy and admired the beauty around him.  This could be a pleasant home for a different family, a loving family, one that truly appreciated each other.  Maybe someday he could live here in peace and make this a happy home.  Maybe.

 

Entering the foyer, he paused to look into the adjoining rooms for any activity, but finding none, decided to find his father and get through the unpleasantness at hand.  As suspected, Lucius was in his study, sipping something he suspected was whiskey.  Draco was taken aback when he actually stood and appeared happy to see his son.

 

“Ah, Draco!  I understand congratulations are in order.”

 

“Thank you, Sir.”  He took his father’s proffered hand.

 

Lucius walked to a small cart that was nearby, holding a crystal decanter and several glasses.  Draco saw him pouring some of the amber liquid into a glass and was shocked when his father offered it to him.  Draco looked from the glass up to his father’s face and then finally reached out to accept the crystal goblet.

 

“Now that you are of age and have completed your magical education, I would like to discuss your future.”

 

“Yes, I would like to discuss that as well.”

 

“Very good.”  Lucius’ robes fanned out behind him as he strode back to his green velvet upholstered chair.  Draco had been preparing for this encounter and knew if he didn’t go on the offensive, take the upper hand immediately, his father would walk all over him in a matter of minutes.  He had spent endless hours fretting over his future, weighing the good and bad, the possibilities of a life and the very distinct possibilities of his death.  He had to stand up to his father and take control of his own destiny, whatever it turned out to be.

 

“I would like to begin by finding either an apartment or small house in the London area.”

 

Lucius stopped in his tracks upon hearing this statement and spoke with his back still to Draco.  “London?  I see.  I had rather expected you to move into one of the ancestral homes.  As a gift, I am prepared to offer you forty acres of land where you could begin construction on your own home.”

 

“That is very generous of you father, but I would prefer to get my own place in London.”

 

Lucius finished his drink in one swift tip and Draco knew he would attempt to regain control of the conversation.  He also anticipated the next topic and decided again to be pro-active.

 

“At this point in my life, I believe that living alone, establishing a home for myself, and developing a career track are most important to my individual growth as a wizard and member of the Malfoy family.”

 

“Indeed.  And what makes you think that you have any choices in this matter at the moment?”  

 

“It is entirely my choice, Sir.  I am no longer a child and am prepared to make my own decisions.”

 

“Only  year ago, you were unable to follow through with the simplest of instructions.  You truly believe that you have matured enough to make decisions regarding your life that are sound and behooving your station?  I do believe our Lord has other plans for you, regardless of your career aspirations.  You seem to forget your place, Draco.  The Dark Lord will determine your career, direct your future and you’d be wise to watch your step or you won’t live to have any…career.”

 

“How can you say that?  You’re a faithful supporter and still manage as a businessman.”

 

“True.  However, I had years to develop my businesses in the Dark Lord’s absence.  You don’t have that luxury – which is why I’m willing to help you get established.  I will introduce you to my contacts, get you started managing some of the family businesses…”

 

“Pardon me, Father, but I‘d prefer to establish my own contacts.”

 

Lucius seemed a bit surprised, although he didn’t allow that emotion to show.  Only the single eyebrow rose up.  “And you consider this a sound decision?”  He didn’t allow Draco any time to respond and barreled on.  “I understand that Ms. Parkinson was expelled from Hogwarts earlier this year.  Did you manage to propose before she left the school?”

 

“No, father.  I do not feel that she is mentally stable and it would be a disservice to our family heritage to mix her bloodline with our own.  You surely can’t expect me to marry someone who hasn’t even finished her magical education.  Your agreement with Mr. Parkinson notwithstanding, I must repudiate your decision to join the Malfoy and Parkinson families in this manner.”

 

The narrow eyes, the sneer coming from across the desk, all indicated his father’s displeasure.  Then his father did something totally unexpected.  He withdrew his wand from the top of his walking stick and laid it on his desk, next to his hand as he took his seat.  His father never showed his wand unless it was with the intention of using it.  Draco kept perfectly still, experiencing a brief period of foreboding, but kept his focus on the wand until his father was seated.

 

As his father spoke, Draco’s eyes were drawn continuously back to the long, ring-decked fingers that kept fidgeting with the wand handle.  It was his father’s way of intimidating him and although it was working, Draco tried desperately to stay composed.  Once again, he found himself in that low lying chair and took the initiative, standing and pacing toward the opposite end of the room.  His height was one of the few things that gave him courage in his quest to contradict his father’s iron will.

 

“Son...” Draco knew he was using this term to make him feel young.  “Mr. Parkinson and I have an agreement and Malfoys do not back out of their agreements.  Besides, you aren’t marrying the girl for her brains.  She certainly showed her loyalty to the cause and despite her being thrown out of the school, many were pleased to hear of her attempt to rid the world of that Muggle monstrosity, Granger.  Besides, just how many pure-blood witches do you think there are to choose from?  If you don’t marry her now, she’ll get snatched up in a heartbeat.”

 

Draco stood resting an arm on the bookcase, listening to this explanation and growing angrier and more determined by the minute.  He was not going to allow his father to drive his love life.  He already controlled so many other aspects of his life and this was one that he just couldn’t allow.  The glare developing on his face was nearly uncontrollable, but his eyes kept flicking to his father’s wand and he somehow remained in control of his emotions.  Still, he was about to voice a response when his father leaned back in the chair, intertwining his fingers in his lap and staring at Draco.

 

“However, if you can prove that Ms. Parkinson is mentally inferior, then I suppose we could terminate our contract of betrothal and allow you to pursue other, more worthy, breeding material.”

 

Just the way that he used that phrase, ‘breeding material,’ made Draco twinge.  A year ago, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but now it sounded rude and demeaning to women.

However, at least his father had agreed to quash this whole family plan he had for Draco.

 

“I’ve lived with Pansy for eighty percent of the past seven years and I can assure you that I’ve witnessed her odd behavior on several occasions.  Do you need specifics?”

 

“Not at the moment.  I understand she was also charged with the attempted murder of the mudblood.  Although her ingenuity and creativeness are to be commended, the fact that she did not succeed and instead got herself caught – well, I suppose that points a rather negative finger at her dowry.  I will discuss this with Mr. Parkinson.”  Lucius obviously didn’t like the height advantage that Draco was establishing and he rose, striding to his bookcase, but only pretending to read the bindings on the books in front of him.  “Next order of business is your report on Potter, Granger and the Weasleys.  As much as I detest speaking their names, our Lord is expecting an update and I can assure you that if your information is not of value, there will be consequences.”

 

Again, Draco knew this was coming and he had gone over everything he had learned in the past six months.  

 

“Our Lord has been planning extensively for the past nine months and is prepared to put his plan into action.  Based on your earlier reports, he plans to use Granger and the Weasleys.  If they truly mean this much to Potter, it will draw him out.  Potter is nothing without his friends behind him.  Destroying them in his presence will break Potter’s will and he’ll be an easy kill.  Now that they are gone from Hogwarts, the school’s wards can no longer protect them.”

 

Draco kept hearing Harry’s words running through his head. _Don’t you realize how much danger you’re putting her in by telling your family about us?  Whose side are you on?_

 

“Now, first I’d like to know if you believe that Potter and Granger have become intimate with each other.”

 

“I-I beg your pardon?”  That was truly a question that Draco had not expected.  Why would they want to know _that_?

 

He repeated, a bit slower.  “Intimate.  Have they copulated?”  Lucius’s countenance had changed a bit in that last statement.  He cocked his head, raising a brow at Draco, studying the boy for a moment and Draco wondered if he was giving something away.  Did his father know that he was becoming friends with her?  If so, would he believe what he told him?  Draco tried desperately to keep his cool, unwavering demeanor plainly established.  

 

Picking up a book and flipping to the center of it, Lucius continued.  “The Dark Lord has a new spell he wishes to use that requires the blood of a virgin.  So, would the Granger girl suffice?”

 

_Whose side are you on?_ Of anyone, Draco would not want Hermione hurt and if they were looking for a virgin, then he couldn’t allow them to go forward with this plan.

 

“Yes, sir.  I do believe that they have been intimate.”

 

Draco didn’t notice the small smirk on his father’s face as he snapped the book shut, retrieved his wand, slipped it quickly into his walking stick and set it down against the arm of his chair.  “We also have a report that Potter was away from the school for a period in the spring.  He was sighted near Birmingham and the Dark Lord is anxious to know why.”

 

The vision of Harry, coughing almost to suffocation and his unintended disclosure about Dumbledore flashed before him.

 

“He suspects that Potter was somehow in collusion with Dumbledore before his death.”

 

_I’m left to try and finish what we started all alone._   Yes, Harry had admitted to something to that nature while in the hospital wing.  _Whose side are you on?_

 

“Yes, he was gone from the school, but I don’t know where he went or why.  He did come down with something that landed him in the hospital wing and I went to visit him, following your instructions to befriend him, of course.  We spoke of Dumbledore briefly….”  His heart went through a final, last-minute thump as he churned over what to say, finally struggling out a lie.  “…But, I don’t recall anything about him working with him.”

 

He panicked.  Lying to his father usually brought harsh, almost brutal, punishment and he had to stop himself from cringing in anticipation.  His saving grace came in the fact that Lucius was not looking him in the eye at the moment he spoke and he tried desperately to maintain enough distance that his father would not notice the beads of sweat that now adorned his brow.

 

“Draco, I’m afraid if you can’t produce anything more than these benign statements, your use as a spy within this organization will be terminated and with it, very possibly, your life.  I suggest you put a bit more thought into your answers because you may find yourself in front of our lord very soon.”  Lucius swung his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the clasp and took his walking stick in hand, still not looking directly at him.  “I will be gone for a fortnight.  I would think long and hard on what you can do to help the Dark Lord.  While I’m gone, you will find this home you wish to have and investigate other pure-blood connections.  Your Mother and I expect a wedding within the year.  Do not disappoint me, Draco.”

 

And with a soft pop, he was gone, leaving Draco wracked with guilt and a sort of bewildered relief.  He would have a month to himself, a whole month to find a place to live, maybe visit Hermione, explore living on his own without being under the thumb of his father.  Then again, he would have to be on constant guard if Lord Voldemort truly wanted to see him and he had better gather some useful information in the interim.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17 - Plush and Inviting

 

The next several weeks were some of the happiest Hermione had ever experienced.  Now that school was out, the acting gig was over.  Ron and she could be themselves and Harry was actively spending more time with Ginny.  After six job interviews, each of which resulted in the potential employer almost begging her to come on board, Hermione finally settled on a position in the Wizengamot’s Clerks office.  She would be doing what she was best at:  research.  Except this would be a new kind of research, one with a refreshing cause.  Instead of searching for ways to disable dark wizards, now she was looking for ways to incarcerate them and she’d be working with a wonderful group of people.  After only one week of employment, Hermione was coming home with a smile on her face almost every day.  Well, coming back to the Burrow that was.  Flat hunting had occupied most of her weekends: well, her weekend _days_.  The nights were promised to Ron and truth be told, he was there during the week as well.  He always put Hermione first, helping her look at flats, bringing her lunch at her office, taking her for walks.  Having an official steady girlfriend had turned him into a new person.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile when she thought of him and how attentive he had become.  He was romantic, bringing her flowers and making her dinner with dancing in front of the fireplace, afterwards.  He kissed her as much as possible and she had to admit to liking it, a lot.  However, being at the Burrow still limited their time together.

 

The benefits to being at the Burrow, however, included a more solid working knowledge of the Order.  Ron, Hermione and Harry were now included in regular meetings and she had finally been briefed on Ron’s work in Egypt.  He had, in fact, found a rather remarkable chest and with Bill’s help, managed to replicate a dummy and confiscate the actual item.  While trying to open the chest, Ron had received the rather odd looking burn on his arm.  Bill’s information seemed pretty solid that this chest was a key to the background of the so-called curse on his family.  However, before Ron returned home, Bill had taken possession of it with promised to get it back to England.

 

Still, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place wasn’t the cheeriest of places and even with the hominess of the Burrow, Hermione was determined to find a place to call her own.

 

At the end of June, Hermione had finally discovered a flat that really appealed to her.  Ron had, of course, came along to offer moral support as she signed the papers and took possession.  She didn’t have much to furnish it with at the moment, but she brought her bedroom furniture from her parents’ home and had managed to find a lovely rug for the living room.  It was very large, plush and inviting, covering the center of the room with a beautiful design in several rich colors.  Hermione was thrilled with her first new purchase for her flat and walked over it often with bare feet just to enjoy the sensation.  Being placed in front of the fireplace, she hoped to make it the focal point for her room at some point in the future.

 

*** 

 

Ron Apparated to her flat one evening, intent on using their new found privacy to explore a closer relationship with her, but she wasn’t home.  Strolling into the kitchen, he noticed a piece of parchment with Hermione’s familiar handwriting.

  _19 Blakewood_

_London_

_Sat._ _8pm_   

“Blakewood?”  Ron looked for more information, turning the parchment over in his hand, but saw none.  For a moment, he thought of just waiting or heading home for a while, confident she would return from whatever appointment she had.  It was those familiar pangs of jealousy, however small that made him consider some investigative work.  He struggled for a moment, his conscience telling him to trust her while the little voice coming from his left disagreed, urging him to follow.  Was she safe?  She hadn’t said anything to him about any appointments today.  Could it be a trap?  He wasn’t going to sit around and find out.

 

*** 

 

The bell on the door rang, announcing his first actual visitor.  He was so nervous; he didn’t know what do with himself.  Taking one last look around, he up righted the one slightly limp rose in the floral bouquet on the table and straightened the rug in the foyer before gathering himself at the door.

 

Hermione had actually come to visit. 

 

“Welcome!” he said as he stepped back, gesturing for her to enter.  Clad simply in denims and a t-shirt, she was still a beauty in his mind as she offered a big, genuine smile and observed the entry of his new flat.  ‘Success’ rang out in his head.  He had her in his flat, he thought with a smirk.  Now to work his beguiling magic on her.

 

“Oh, Draco.  This is just lovely!”  He closed the door behind her and followed her in as she inspected the main living area.  She turned, offering him a small potted plant.  It appeared to be more or less a sapling, but it had an usual flower on it.

 

“A housewarming gift.”

 

“Thank you.  So, you like it?”  He took the pot and walked toward his patio, depositing it on the ledge before he came back in.

 

“Yes, very much.  You’ve done all this in just a month?”  The décor was stunning.  Well, obviously, being a Malfoy came with its monetary perks and Draco had put them to good use in furnishing his new flat.  Considering it wasn’t an actual house, it was still very large and only shared a small portion of wall and a courtyard with the neighboring building.

 

“Wait.  You have to see this.”  Draco escorted her to the kitchen.

 

“This is your kitchen?  It’s huge!  Do you plan on cooking for one or twenty?” she spoke, leaning against the granite counters.

 

Draco was obviously pleased with her comments.  “Yes, well, I do like to entertain.  Well, at least my family likes to entertain and I assume that I will do the same.”

 

“Do you cook?”

 

“Of course not.  That’s for the house elves to do.”

 

Based on the scowl he received, that was not a good thing to say.  Even though it was true and Draco hadn’t cooked a thing in his life, he quickly back-peddled.  “I mean, I’ve never had an opportunity to cook, but I’m sure I would enjoy learning, if someone were to teach me.”  He raised an eye, suggesting that she could be that person.  Perhaps she knew how to cook.  This could lead to some interesting opportunities.

 

*** 

 

Without allowing Hermione to respond, Draco took her hand and pulled her down the hall.  “Come look at the bedroom.”  

 

She hesitated for just a second, but he seemed so excited to show her that she went along and soon walked through a set of double doors into a sumptuous room covered in green and gold draperies and pillows strew about an enormous four-poster bed.  A hand carved bench sat at the foot of the bed.  A large armoire, desk with chair, full sized mirror on a cherry wood stand and two bedside tables completed the furnishings.  Fresh flowers were everywhere and the room was spotless.

 

Hermione’s mouth just hung open, taking in the view.  Draco had walked over to a set of French doors and swung them open, allowing an evening breeze to blow into the room.  He spun around, arms wide, waiting for her comments.

 

“Oh, my.”  She approached the desk, running her hand over the smooth wood and looking out the window, before walking past Draco onto the balcony beyond the French doors.  The westward view was lovely with the sun starting to hide behind the buildings and the breeze felt so good.  Taking it all in, she sensed him standing behind her and then saw one hand brace the railing on her right and another on her left and finally his body came into contact with her back.

 

“Isn’t this the best view you’ve ever seen?”  Draco’s breath was just skirting her ear.

 

“Yes, Draco, it’s lovely.  It truly is.”

 

“Not as lovely as you, though.”  It was almost infinitesimal, but she sensed his chest press against her and she closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves and think of the appropriate thing to say that wouldn’t sound too rude or cruel, but would make it clear how she felt about him.

 

He leaned down toward her neck and she knew his lips would try to find their goal soon so; she spun around to face him, his hands still holding her captive against the railing.

 

“We’ve had this discussion before, at school, remember?”

 

“Hermione, I know what you said, but isn’t it possible that you feel just a little bit of what I feel?  I see it in the way you look at me.  I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but I think if you’d just give it a try.  Let me date you, just a few dates and if I’m really that lousy, then you can call it off.  I guarantee, you won’t be sorry.”

 

The breeze blew her hair across her face and Draco reached up to push it aside, cupping her cheek as he did so.  This was the last straw for Hermione and she ducked under his arms and walked with all haste out of the bedroom and back toward the front foyer.  Draco quickly followed.

 

“Hermione!  Wait!  Please.  Just wait.  I’m sorry.  I just wanted…I just…”

 

Spinning around so that her hair actually whipped him in the face, he stepped back, a bit stunned as she spoke.  “Draco.  I told you in school that we’re only friends and you accepted that.”

 

Deciding to change tactics, he continued.  “Yes, I know, but…I can’t help these feelings I’m having toward you.  I do want to be your friend, but I….I just want to explore something else.  I think you are so unbelievably sexy.”  His voice dropped an octave.  “You just take my breath away.  Just stay with me for one evening.  Just one.”  His hands stroked down her arms and his eyes grew darker, a deep gunmetal gray.  “I can show you the world, if you’ll let me.”

 

She found herself in a state of paralyzing disbelief, subtly shaking her head and trying to verbalize what she was thinking.  Her breathing had picked up as his icy eyes bore into hers.  The incessant stroking up and down the outside of her arms was numbing until he stopped and squeezed her upper arm, pulling her toward him.  His hand reached up behind her head, his fingers laced within her hair while his other arm held her tight against him.  His voice was deep with desire. “Please Hermione.  Stay with me tonight.”

 

She wasn’t frightened of him, at least not physically.  She was positive he would let go if she asked him to.  Her body involuntarily reacted to him in a way that made her head spin and she suddenly felt this pain in her chest.  It was guilt.  She shouldn’t feel this way about him – didn’t want to feel this way.  She was with Ron and allowing herself to have these feelings was wrong.  “I have to go.  I have to leave.”  With a burst of energetic courage, she reached behind her for the doorknob and pulled it open, but Draco still held one arm just as she was stepping free of the threshold.

 

“Hermione.  I’m sorry.  Please don’t be angry.”  He released her arm.

 

“I’m not angry with you, but I have to go.”  With a flash of brown curls, she was gone down the walk and through the gate, almost running down the narrow lane.

 

*** 

 

After hunting down a map and walking most of the way, Ron finally found the address on the slip of paper.  It was a beautiful apartment building and Ron still couldn’t figure out what this had to do with Hermione, until, to his dismay, he saw them.  Standing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard between the buildings, Hermione was looking out at the view and Draco had his arms on either side of her.  Standing very close, he leaned in toward her neck.  Was he kissing her?  He couldn’t tell, but it appeared so.

 

Ron stood in utter shock as he watched her turn in his arms and they spoke for a moment before he reached up to brush some of her hair away that had blown into her face.

 

That was _his_ hair to touch.  Those lovely brown curls belonged to him!  How dare he touch them!  Touch her.  His anger was rising, but so was the pain in his chest as he watched the scene unfold.  A moment later she walked back into the flat.  Was that his bedroom she walked into?  It was upstairs.  No, it couldn’t be.  She promised.  She said that she was his one and only.  How could…how could she do this?

 

The crushing anguish that threatened to take him, left him whimpering and on the verge of tears.  Without waiting another moment, he ran back in the direction from where he had come and Apparated.

 

*** 

 

No one seemed to notice the other witness of this encounter.  He stood shrouded in a dark cloak, shadowed by the nearby trees, but watching both the scene on the balcony and Ron’s frantic departure.

 

*** 

Arriving at the Burrow, Hermione immediately went to find Ron.  She was shaking and needed comfort.  He was the first thing on her mind when she left Draco’s flat.  She had to find him, to reassure herself that her feelings for him were much stronger than Draco thought and that he would stay by her, no matter what.

 

However, as she walked into the house, calling out his name, she was instead met by Harry.

 

“Hermione.  What the hell happened?”

 

“Huh?  Harry, I need to find Ron.  Have you seen him?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve seen him.  About ten minutes ago when he nearly blasted his mother’s cabinet into smithereens, shouting your name and something about your hair.  Did you two just have a row?”

 

“No.  I haven’t even seen him today.  Do you know where he went?”

 

“He went to your apartment, but Hermione, he’s really upset.  I don’t know what you did, but you might want to give him some time to cool off.”

 

“I’ve got to go.”  Without hesitation, she Disapparated, leaving Harry standing with confusion written all over his face.

 

A moment later she arrived in the living room of her flat.  She looked around and not seeing him, started down the hall toward the bedrooms.  “Ron!”  Just then she heard a sniffing noise and realized he was in the bathroom and it sounded like he was crying.  A push on the bathroom door revealed the truth.  “Ron?”

 

He was sitting on the floor, tears in his eyes, wiping his mouth against a towel.

 

“Ron!  What’s wrong?  Are you sick?”

 

His voice was eerily quiet and very low.  “Yeah, sick and tired of being lied to.” Pointing his finger at her, he continued.  “You promised, Hermione.”  She had never seen him cry like this and it chilled her to the core.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I saw you, Hermione.  You can’t deny it.  I was there.  Nineteen Blakewood.”

 

“What?  Why were you at Draco’s flat?”  Hermione was kneeling down in front of him.  “How did you…wait, you followed me?”  Ron rose up and pushed toward the sink, cupping some water in his hand and throwing it over his face and rinsing out his mouth.

 

He spoke as he gripped the sides of the sink.  “I found the note and went to find you.  I saw you in his arms on the balcony.”  Hermione stood up, placing herself between him and the exit, but Ron pushed passed her, knocking her into the doorjamb.

 

“Ouch!”  She rubbed her arm as she followed him down the hall.  “Ron!  Stop!  You misunderstood!  There’s nothing going on!”

 

Towering over her, he shouted down at her petite frame.  “I saw you, Hermione!  With my own eyes!”  

 

This time Hermione pushed back, rising up on her toes and meeting him eye to eye, the anger building in her voice.  “Well, you DIDN’T see the part where I pushed him off and left.  The part where I told him that we are only friends, despite his feelings for me.  I’m not cheating on you, Ron!”

 

Her need to feel him, to comfort him and to assure both herself and Ron that her statement was true, all drove her to reach her arms up and place them around his neck.  He remained stiff, looking down at her with the remains of tears on his cheeks.  He looked like he wanted to believe what she had said, but was unable to relax, the whole incident too fresh.

 

“Please, Ron.  I need you.  I want to be with you and only you.  I’m your one and only and you’re mine.”

 

*** 

 

There it was again, his one and only.  He wanted that so badly.  He desperately wanted her.  It couldn’t be any clearer, but neither could her deception.

 

“Ron, look, you have to trust me.  If you can’t trust me, then we can’t have an honest relationship.  Draco is just a friend and I only went to see his new flat.  Yes, some things happened, but I didn’t initiate them and I left just as soon as I could.  I told him very clearly that he and I are just friends.  Do you believe me?”

 

Her hand was stroking his hair and his cheek, sliding down his neck as she repeated her question.

 

“Do you believe me?  Do you believe that…that I love you, Ron?”  She whimpered, her own moist eyes staring into his as her index finger wrapped itself around the neckline of his t-shirt and held it in place.

 

Ron’s heart leapt at hearing those words.  It was something he had considered for a very long time.  Love.  She loved him.  Just hearing her finally say it brought a comfort to him, a quieting of the rage and turmoil that pounded in his head.  She was right.  He would have to trust her if they were going to be together.  If she said they were just friends, then he should take her at her word.

 

Her eyes were what sealed it.  Those pools of warmth, they were pleading with him, loving him.  They showed him the real truth.

 

Locked in her view, he inhaled deeply.  “I believe you.”  His lips crashed into hers as he crushed her against his body, steering her back through the door behind them into the living area.  Leaving her lips, he started whispering through a myriad of desperate kisses all over her tear-streaked face, “I believe you.  I do.  Hermione.”  His words were interspersed with more feathery kisses to her jaw and then her neck.

 

He had heard it from her first and part of him felt rather guilty for not having spoken of his true passion before her.  She needed to hear it, she needed confirmation.  It was evident in her eyes and in the way she returned his kisses deeply, nearly bruising his lips with want.  Grabbing a handful of his t-shirt, she tugged and he lurched toward her as she stepped into the center of the room.

 

Ripping her lips away from him, her eyes conveyed her true self and both hands pulled the t-shirt free of his waistband and ran themselves up his bare back.  She was warm and soft and his back muscles tensed as her fingertips explored this yet unknown territory.  Ron’s hands remained on her shoulders, frozen in position as he watched her and allowed his body to enjoy this new sensation.  Her hands came around to his chest and ran up once and then trailed down his stomach and then his leg as she slowly sank to the floor.  At first only his gaze drifted down and met with hers, but soon his body followed and instinctively he cradled her head in his hand and laid her down onto that one plush and inviting household purchase.

 


	18. Chapter 18 - A Little Remodeling Job

  
Author's notes: This chapter contains a small flashback to scenes in Chapter 16 - His One and Only.  This chapter, however, shows the incident from Harry's point of view.  The flashback has been italicized.  


* * *

 

Only two days into Harry’s stay at the Burrow he received an owl from his old school professor.  Remus had been living at Grimmauld Place ever since Sirius’ death and he requested a visit from Harry.  Although this house held many sad memories, Harry couldn’t turn down a visit to see Remus, despite the fact that only the Dursley home beat it out on the misery meter.  So, on his third day back from Hogwarts, Harry stepped into the Floo Network and headed off to his second-least favorite place.

 

Remus sat in the kitchen, sipping some coffee and reading a book when Harry appeared in the hearth.

 

“Ah, Harry!”  He rose immediately.  “Oh, it’s good to see you.”  He slapped the paper down onto the table to emphasize his point.  Harry limped toward him, the remnants of his leg injury still nagging him.  Harry knew that Remus was aware of his hospitalization – the pneumonia, the injuries - but he appeared surprised that Harry wasn’t one hundred percent back.

 

“Professor Lupin.  It’s good to see _you_.”

 

“Please Harry, call me Remus.  I’m not your professor anymore, I’m your friend.”

 

“Alright.  I’ll try.”

 

Remus grinned and gestured toward the table.  “Would you care for some coffee or tea?”

 

“Sure.  Tea would be great.”  Harry was about to take a seat when Remus turned back toward him, a happy but distant look in his eye.

 

“Looks like you’ve grown.  You’re nearly as tall as your father.”  Remus smiled, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder as if enjoying his little review of the man standing before him.  “Even the look of your face has changed.  You’re becoming a man.”

 

“Well, I am just a month from my eighteenth birthday,”  Harry countered.

 

“Yes, yes.”  He smiled widely as he continued.  “James would have loved to have seen what a fine young man you’ve become.”  Remus drove home the point with a gentle squeeze.

 

Harry couldn’t help but attempt to swallow down the tension in his throat.

 

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be all melancholy and such.  You must think me a dodgy old man.”  Remus turned quickly, heading toward the stove.

 

“You are certainly not dodgy and I don’t consider you old.”

Taking a seat at the long wooden table, Harry glanced around the kitchen.  It appeared a bit different from how he remembered it.  Remus tinkered with the pot, finally setting it to boil.

 

“Prof…Remus.  What’s different in here?”

 

“Oh, yes, well, I’ve done a bit of remodeling, cleaning and repairing over the past couple of years.  Finally got around to the kitchen about four months ago.  Do you like it?”

 

“Actually, yes.  It sure looks friendlier than it did before.”

 

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me taking the initiative to do this.  I realize this is your property, well, as soon as we sign the official papers it will be, and I was hoping you would like what I had done.”

 

“I do like what you’ve done, but I really don’t want this place.  I mean, you should keep it for yourself.  You’ve done all this work on it.  You deserve to keep it.”

 

“Yes, Harry.  Well, that’s why I asked you to come here today.  This house technically reverted to your possession when you turned seventeen and I know you told me to keep it back then, but we really need to make something legal.  Now, it’s your choice on whether you want to sell it, deed it to the Order, to myself or anyone else you wish.  However, I was kind of hoping that you might agree to live here with me, just for a little while.”

 

The impact of Remus’s request left Harry a bit mute as he digested the thought.  “Um…well, thanks, I mean yes, it’s my house and all, but I still think of it as yours.  I guess it’s kind of weird to be invited to move into your own house.”  

 

Remus smiled, the first solid, really happy smile that Harry had seen since his arrival.  The teakettle whistled and Remus poured a cup and set it in front of him before taking a seat across the table.

 

“Before you decide anything, I would like for you to consider a few things.”

 

Harry shifted a bit, rotating his cup nervously.  “Alright, I’m listening.”

 

“First of all, I know that this house holds some bad memories, but it also holds some good ones and it was Sirius’ wish to give this house to you - not me, not the Order, but you.  Second, I know that the Weasley’s consider you as their own son and that you’re welcome in their home, but you are of age, you’ll be finding a job and you’ll want your own place.  Plus, even though they would never say it, it’s probably not a good idea for you to take advantage of their hospitality for too long into the future.  Third, this house is important to the Order and as such, it does need some repair work done and I could sure use a hand getting things fixed up.”

 

“Remus…”

 

“Wait.  Let me just get this out.  Fourth, I’ve been living here by myself for two years and although there are Order members coming and going at various times of day and night, there are also many times when it is utterly quiet and well, I would really enjoy some company.  We’ve had far too little time to get to know each other, Harry.  Your father and Sirius were like family to me and I want to know you the same way.”

 

Given the look on Remus’ face, that last statement had been difficult to gulp out and Harry suddenly saw his former professor in a different light.  This brilliant and powerful wizard, this man he had looked up to, learned from and relied upon, was telling him he was lonely and wanted a friend.

 

Harry supposed that in some sense, Remus was right about staying at the Burrow.  Harry knew that he was welcome there, but he didn’t have any intention of staying there forever and yes, he was sure that he would outstay his welcome at some point.  He never wanted to be a burden on them and now that he was finished with school, it did make sense for him to branch out on his own.  Besides, being at Order Headquarters, the focal point of the resistance, made perfect sense.  He could keep abreast of Voldemort’s movements, maybe get some more training and help with the planning of missions.

 

The only obstacle that jumped out at him was his discussion with Ron about them getting a flat together.  They were going to share one and he couldn’t just let Ron down.

 

“Remus.  A lot of what you say is true and I do appreciate you mentioning it.  You’re correct, I don’t intend on staying at the Weasleys’ forever and yes, the house is mine.”  He stopped, considering his next words.  “Um…I didn’t know that you were so lonely here.  I’m sorry about that, but I just couldn’t stand being here, always thinking of Sirius.”

 

Remus dared a quick glance up, but stared back at his coffee cup.  “I understand that.  If you truly don’t want to stay here, I can’t make you, but I at least wanted to ask.”  Remus had been sitting rather stiffly up until that moment, when his head sagged and he slumped toward the table.  It was impossible for Harry not to notice the obvious gesture of defeat and it panged him straight in the chest.

 

“Remus.  I’ll tell you what.  I’ll come and stay with you for the next six weeks and help you fix things up and then when I’m eighteen, you can go with me and we’ll sign the papers to make this your house.  I really want you to have it and I think Sirius would have liked that idea as well.”

 

“Six weeks, hmm?”

 

“Ron and I had already made plans to get a flat together, but it’ll be a couple of months before we manage to do that anyway.”

 

“Harry, I don’t know what to say.  I never expected you to give this place to me.  I’ve just been a caretaker.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

 

Harry cut him off before he could go any further.  “Yes, Remus.  I want you to have it and that’s the end of the discussion.  Now, I’ll pack some things and plan on moving here in a couple of days.”

 

“I’ll tell you what.  Let’s compromise.  You stay with me for the next six weeks and after that if you still don’t want this house for yourself, then we can discuss a change in ownership.  Alright?”

 

“Fine.  I’m not going to change my mind, though.  Why don’t we plan on Friday.  I think I should give Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a little time to adjust, plus I need to talk to Ron and Hermione.”

 

“And Ginny?”

 

Harry blushed upon hearing her name and then considered that yes, he should talk to Ginny.

 

“Yes, I suppose.”  He looked back down at his cup and blew on the hot liquid.

 

“Harry, may I offer one small piece of advice?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“You might want to tell Ginny first.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Harry, I haven’t been living under a rock and I do know how you two feel about each other.  If she’s truly your girl, as I suspect she is, then you should tell her first.  It’s important.  I heard about what she did in the spring, going out to search for you.  She showed you some incredible devotion.”

 

“Yeah.  I know,” he said, swirling the liquid around in the cup.

 

“Well, then, you owe it to her.  You might want to consider that she may have had her own ideas about you staying in her family home this summer.”

 

Harry considered his mentor’s words for a moment.  Maybe Ginny had plans for them and here he was, throwing a wrench in the wheel.  “Bloody hell, you’re right.  Um…alright, I’ll talk to her first.”

 

“One more thing, Harry.  You may have finished school, but we feel that it’s important that you keep your skills up and that goes for all of your other friends and supporters as well.”

 

“Sure.  That makes sense.  I know the moment to face Voldemort is coming soon and I’d obviously like to be as prepared as I can.  I’m sure that as soon as Auror Academy starts, they’ll put me through my paces.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure they will, but we feel…I feel that you need more individualized and specialized training.  So, Tonks and I want to work with you on your defensive skills while you are staying here.  We also spoke to Minerva and wanted to know if you would consider making weekly trips up to Hogwarts in the fall and continue to teach the D.A.”

 

“Really?  Professor McGonagall wants me to come back to teach?”

 

“Yes.  You’re an excellent instructor and those kids need to keep sharp.  We might even bring some of your former classmates together for some training as well.  Even though they’ve graduated doesn’t mean they can let their skills slip.”

 

“Oh, I agree.  So, when do we start?”

 

“Soon, but first, tell me why it is that you’re still limping.”

 

Harry went on to explain about his injury.  He didn’t reveal what he was after, just told Remus about the kind of snare he had landed himself in during that rainy trip.  They spoke for a little while longer and then Remus took Harry on a tour around the house and grounds, showing him what he had already done and what still needed attention.  The more they talked, the more excited Harry became at the prospect of living with Remus and working on this house.  With all of the ideas Remus had to improve and repair things, it sounded like the house would be really splendid when it was all finished.  He truly wanted Remus to have a nice place to live and the idea of him contributing to this made him happy.

 

 Dinner at the Burrow that evening was relaxed and cheerful.  Ron seemed to be in especially high spirits and kept everyone in stitches over dinner.  When Ginny started cleaning up the dishes, Harry offered to help and pushed Mrs. Weasley into the parlour to relax for a while. Grabbing a few plates, Harry made his way to the kitchen where Ginny had several pots already scrubbing in the sink on their own while she covered a plate of biscuits.  Harry chuckled to himself at the domestic feel of it all, he and Ginny cleaning up in the kitchen. “What are you smiling about?” Ginny asked after he noticed her stealing a glance at him upon his entry. 

“Nothing in particular.  Just having a good day.  It’s rare in these times to have a really good day and I guess you have to enjoy them when you get them.”

 

Tucking the plate away, she returned to the sink to rinse some dishes.  “That’s rather insightful.  What brought on this whole waxing rhapsodic episode?”

 

“This what?”

 

“You haven’t heard that phrase?  Waxing rhapsodic?”

 

“Um…no.”  He grabbed a towel as she handed him a washed plate.

 

“A rhapsody is like an outpouring of feeling and to wax means to grow or to become.  So, it means you become emotional or pour out your feelings.”

 

“I wouldn’t say I was emotional.”

 

The plate that had been in her hand, drifted back into the water and she turned to him, drying her hands on the towel held in his.  Harry watched her actions as both his eyes and towel were held hostage by her wet hands and close proximity.  Before he had time to react, her palms slid over his cheeks and she smiled warmly at him.

 

“Harry, there’s nothing wrong with being a little emotional and I’m glad you’re having a good day.  I hope you have many, many more in the future.  In fact, I’m really looking forward to having you around here for a while.”

 

Harry’s face, which had flushed with the warmth of her hands, suddenly felt gravely cold.  Remus was right.  Ginny had been planning on having him with her at the Burrow this summer and he knew his plans needed revealing.

 

“Um…actually we need to talk about that.  Can we finish the dishes and head out to the garden for a bit?”

 

She cocked her head, the smile changing to a question mark as her hands slid from his cheeks.  “Sure.”

 

A few minutes later the kitchen appeared straight.  Harry hung up the towel and held the door for Ginny as they stepped out back.  Grasping her hand, he led the way across the yard to the back gate, far enough from the house that no one inside would overhear their conversation.

 

Before he could even think of his first sentence, Ginny kick-started the conversation.

 

“So, what’s going on, Harry?”

 

“Actually, this is kind of exciting news.”  He pushed a smile onto his face, hoping that Ginny wouldn’t be too upset with him.  She shrugged a shoulder as if to imply ‘so?’ and he continued.

 

“Remus invited me over this morning and we had a nice chat.  We were discussing Grimmauld Place and all the work that needs to be done on it and, well…Remus invited me to come and live with him for a while and help with the repairs.”

 

Her eyes lit up.  “ _You_ want to live at Grimmauld Place?  You hate that place.  I’ve heard you say it a million times!  Why on earth…”

 

“Because Remus asked me to and…”

 

“And?”  Now her hands were on her hips, clearly indicating a rising temper and distinct displeasure about his decision.

 

“Ginny, you have to promise not to say anything, alright?”  Harry was desperate to get her to stop boring holes into his head with those flaming eyes.  “Promise?”

 

Finally she nodded.  “Remus kind of told me that he’s…lonely.  He wants to spend some time getting to know me.  He was almost in tears.”

 

Ginny’s shoulders softened almost immediately, her hands falling to her sides and she turned away.  Remembering Remus’s advice, he added, “I haven’t told anyone else about this.  I wanted you to know first.  So, are you alright with this?”

 

She had apparently done a complete three sixty for the fiery stance and stern gaze had been replaced by a meek composure. Harry thought he saw moisture building up behind her eyes as she nodded her head, her lips pursed as if holding back tears.

 

“Ginny?  What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing!”

 

It was perfectly clear from the squeaky voice that she was fighting it back and it was most certainly _not_ nothing.  Harry hesitated, unsure of what to do next.  Should he touch her, hold her, leave and let her think?

 

“Gin…I really wanted to spend some time with you this summer.  I-I don’t think I ever really thanked you for coming to get me in Birmingham in the spring.  I probably would have died if you hadn’t showed up.  I’m not doing this to try and stay away from you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

All he saw was a blur of red before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck.  His arms seemed to float out into the air around him, unsure of where to land, but soon found themselves around her waist and rubbing her back soothingly.  He still wasn’t sure exactly what had brought on the waterworks, but as Ginny’s grip hadn’t decreased, he opted to just act as a pillar of support and not speak.

 

Just as suddenly as it all began, her arms relaxed and she pulled them down, her eyes unintentionally wiping against his shoulder as she withdrew.

 

“I’m sorry.  I feel like such an idiot.  Of course, if Remus is lonely and wants you to stay with him, then by all means, you should.  I’m just being selfish.”

 

Harry gripped both of her shoulders, tilting his head down to get her attention. “You’re not selfish, Ginny.  What are you on about?”

 

She wiped away another tear, drew in a long cleansing breath and tried to turn away, but Harry held firm.  He wanted her to look at him, but she kept her eyes dipped to the ground as she spoke.

 

“I _am_ selfish.  When you said you were going to move in with Remus, all I could think was that I had been planning on doing so many things with you this summer and suddenly all my plans were going down the tubes.  I should have been considering Professor Lupin’s feelings and yours, not just my own.  I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s alright.  We can still do things together.  I’ll only be a stop on the Floo network away.  Maybe you could come over and help us.  I mean…we’re just a couple of blokes.  What do we know about decorating a house!  I’m sure it could use a girl’s touch.”

 

“Really?”  A smile finally broke out on her face and he got his wish as her eyes turned back to his.  They were watery and a bit red and Harry was struck with both how beautiful she was and how much his heart ached at seeing any tears in her eyes whatsoever.  Without planning, his hand swiped at the moisture trapped on her cheek, the back of his fingers wiping it dry.  “I must look a mess,” she added.

 

Even wet, her cheeks felt heavenly and her face came to rest against his hand as she nuzzled into his palm, her eyes closing for a brief second.  Harry felt awash in pins and needles and Ginny was the magnet, drawing him forward as his hand slid around her neck and through her hair.  She must have sensed the pull as well, for her eyes found his and blinked softly as he drew her toward him.

 

“I think you’re really pretty and I desperately want to kiss you right now.”

 

She sank toward him.  “Then what are you waiting fo…”

 

His lips made their impression, stifling any more words.  Harry relished the heat and sweetness of her lips.  How he had missed this.  For the past several months, he’d been so careful, trying to avoid being seen with her, trying to appear only as casual acquaintances when this was what he wanted.  Their few stolen moments had been short and full of tension as they tried to stay hidden.  This moment felt so relaxed and Harry didn’t want it to end, which was why he sighed so loudly when a voiced called to them from the house.

 

“Ginny?  Harry?”

 

“Yes, Mum.”  Ginny’s body lurched back with a learned reaction from hearing that voice too many times to count.  He dropped his hands and stepped back, but it was pretty clear that Mrs. Weasley had seen at least part of their encounter and Harry felt the heat in his face notch up a degree or two.

 

“Coming!”  Ginny offered her most covert smile and a small wink before pivoting around and skipping into the house.  Harry raised his brows upon observing her almost child-like gait across the lawn and suddenly felt rather child-like himself, jogging to catch up to the lovely girl that had just kissed him.

 

Harry found Mr. Weasley and Ron engaged in a game of chess that was about to end as Ron performed his textbook maneuver in outwitting his opponent again.  Harry offered to play the next game as Mr. Weasley decided to call it quits for the night. Soon Harry brought up the whole Grimmauld Place idea with Ron as well.  His best mate was upset at first until Harry told him it was just for a couple of months and that, no, he wasn’t going back out on his promise to move in with him.  Waiting until the next morning, he finally discussed it with the Weasleys over breakfast and eventually tracked down Hermione who was actually very excited about the idea.

 

Ginny also brought it up with her parents, but they weren’t so keen on her spending that much time at the Order headquarters.  They finally agreed to let her visit during daylight hours and only if Remus was home.  Harry explained that he still intended on visiting the Burrow often.  This helped to alleviate some of Mrs. Weasley’s empty-nest syndrome that she was battling since Hermione had announced her intention to find a flat and knowing Harry and finally Ron were preparing to leave soon as well.

 

As planned, he moved his things in with Remus and they started a month long house project.  Almost everyday they worked on some facet of the aging home, putting in a new floor in the foyer, repairing the downstairs loo, repainting the bedrooms in much brighter colors.  Ginny came by often, drawing out ideas for the décor in the rooms.  Several times they went shopping to purchase new curtains and bedding, pillows and rugs.  Parts of the house were starting to look really nice and Harry found the work tiring, but very satisfying.  When he wasn’t working on the house, he was attending Order meetings, researching horcruxes or training with Remus or Tonks.  He split his evenings between Grimmauld Place and the Burrow, visiting with Remus, playing cards or chess, or just talking when he was there.  At the Burrow, he spent as much time as he could with Ginny, but Ron and Hermione joined them much of the time when they weren’t at Hermione’s new flat.

 

Life almost felt normal.

 

Then came that day in late June when Ron came bursting through the Floo at the Burrow, tears in his eyes and muttering _“No one should be allowed to touch that hair.”  He stood in shock as he witnessed Ron kick a hole through a china cabinet and slump down onto the sofa.  Harry’s quick thinking repaired the antique furniture before Mrs. Weasley saw the damage.  Harry tried to question Ron on his behavior, but all he got were more statements, directed toward him, but no answers._

_“How could she?  She promised, Harry.  She promised!”  He got back up and paced for a moment._

_“Ron, did you and Hermione have a row?”_

 

That was probably a silly question, but frankly, he didn’t know how else to interrupt Ron’s ranting.  _“I’m going to Hermione’s flat to talk to her.”_   And with that, he left with a pop.  The whole encounter lasted only ten or fifteen seconds, leaving Harry wondering what had hit him.

 

Ginny appeared at the top of the steps a second later.  “What was that noise?”

 

“Um…that was Ron.”

 

She looked puzzled and started quickly down the stairs.  “What did he do?”

 

“I think they had another row and Ron was pretty upset.  Something about hair and that she promised something.”  Ginny had reached the bottom.

 

“Where did he go?”

 

“He said he was going to her flat to talk to her.”

 

“Should we go after him?”

 

“I think we should let them iron this out on their own.”  Ginny nodded in agreement and proceeded to walk over to the table and pick up her latest set of drawings.  “Well, I’m going to head back over to Grimmauld.  I have some ideas for that third floor bedroom in the corner.  Are you coming?”

 

“Yeah.  You go ahead and I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

 

Ginny had just Flooed away and Harry walked to the back of the house to retrieve some tools when Hermione arrived with a pop.  A moment later Harry heard Ron’s name being called from within the house and he walked back in, finding Hermione in the parlor.

 

_Flashback from Chapter 16:_

__

  _“Hermione.  What the hell happened?”_

_“Huh?  Harry, I need to find Ron.  Have you seen him?”_

_“Yeah, I’ve seen him.  About ten minutes ago when he nearly blasted his mother’s cabinet into smithereens, shouting your name and something about your hair.  Did you two just have a row?”_

_“No.  I haven’t even seen him today.  Do you know where he went?”_

_“He went to your apartment, but Hermione, he’s really upset.  I don’t know what you did, but you might want to give him some time to cool off.”_

_“I’ve got to go.”  Without hesitation, she Disapparated, leaving Harry standing in confusion._

Harry shook his head, muttering “Another day in the life of Ron and Hermione.”  Knowing Ginny and Remus were waiting, he Apparated to the house.  Ginny was already discussing her latest ideas with Harry’s remodeling partner.

 

“Hi, Harry,” Remus said.  “Listen, Ginny has a lovely design for that bedroom upstairs.  She’s going to start stripping off the old wallpaper if you want to help me up on the fourth floor.  There’s this old chest that needs to be moved.  I tried levitating it, but it won’t budge.  It won’t open either.  Maybe you have some ideas?”

 

“Yeah, alright.  Let’s go take a look.”

 

They left Ginny in the third floor bedroom and made their way up one more flight to examine the trunk.  It was very old, with iron and leather straps around it.  The wood was thick, with the remnants of blue and gold paint upon it.  Even though it was rotting in places, it still seemed very sturdy and Remus was right, it didn’t want to move.

 

They each tried a few things with their wands and finally, after Remus had checked it for Dark Magic, they tried to physically lift it up or pull it open.  After a good thirty or forty minutes of trying, they were winded and out of ideas.  Remus grabbed a nearby chair and Harry turned and sat down on the old chest, catching his breath before they decided what to do next.

 

“You know, the funny thing is, I don’t recall even seeing this trunk before.  I know this house is full of decade’s worth of junk and the house is enormous, but I really think I would have noticed this thing before.  Anyway, there’s just so much to do in this house.  So many people coming and going and so much memorabilia.”

 

“Yeah, well, the Blacks owned this house for how many generations?”

 

“Oh, probably nine or ten generations.  Sirius started trying to go through all this stuff when he was living here.  He had every intention of clearing it all out and starting fresh.”

 

“Well, it was his family’s belongings.  You don’t have to deal with all this.”

 

“I guess I just feel obligated to finish what he started somehow.”

 

Harry rose up and turned to look at the rest of the room.  “Well, being as this is now my house, I release you of your obligation, alright?”

 

Just then a clicking noise caught their attention and they both froze.  “Did you hear that?”  Remus asked as Harry moved back toward the chest.

 

“Yeah, it sounded like an old lock turning or something.”  Harry looked closer at the chest.  “Remus, look at this!  The lid is open.  It just unlocked itself.  The old locking mechanism must have finally worn out!”

 

“Harry, be careful.”  Harry reached over to slowly lift the lid, having drawn his wand out and Remus was also poised and ready for anything that might jump out of the chest.

With one swift move, Harry skirted to the side and flung the lid open.

 

They each waited a second to make sure nothing was going to jump out at them and then Harry very cautiously peered into the chest’s depths.

 

Nothing in it was immediately recognizable.  There were rolls of what appeared to be something like papyrus and some small metal cups, a knife with some fancy stones encrusted on the handle, a series of chains that Remus thought may be the remains of a piece of jewelry and some small jar like objects.  After carefully examining the contents, they set them back inside and closed the lid, deciding that they wanted to have Bill come and take a look at these items first.

 

After a long day of hard work, Harry practically collapsed into his bed that night and was asleep within minutes.  Thoughts of the house, Ginny and the newly discovered chest swirled through his mind.

 

  _He was sitting along a river.  It was wide with lush foliage on both sides.  The sun beat down on him, but he felt very relaxed and comfortable.  He heard his name being called and turned around to see Ginny.  She was standing on the steps of a great stone building that went up several stories._ _Dressed in white robes, the sun glinted off of the gold jewelry around her neck and in her hair.  She waved to him and smiled, but she never moved.  Harry wanted to kiss her.  He got up and started running toward her, but she never got closer.  She continued to wave and then she finally stopped and fell to the ground._

_But, then the ground was no longer covered in sun, it was dark and damp and Harry felt cold.  He looked down and saw his own hands and noticed the red burns around his wrists.  Hearing a loud cracking noise, he looked up to see a large door opening near him.  It was dark and he couldn’t see very well, but then he was suddenly hanging by his wrists on the wall and this black hooded figure was coming toward him and he wanted to scream, but nothing would come out.  He tried again, wanting desperately to cry out as the figure gripped his arm and twisted it._

“Harry!  Harry!  Wake up!”  He felt a hand on his arm and he fought against it, finally jumping up from the bed and nearly pushing Remus over.

 

“Remus?”  His t-shirt was covered in sweat as he looked for his glasses, only then discovering that Remus had them in his hand.  “Oh, thanks.”

 

“You must have been having a nightmare.  I heard you screaming.”

 

“Sorry.  It was kind of scary.  I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

 

“It’s perfectly alright, Harry.  It’s still the middle of the night.  Why don’t you put on a dry shirt and try to get back to sleep.  We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

 

Harry nodded and Remus left the room, slowly clicking the door shut.  Harry pulled off his shirt and found a dry one in his drawer before flopping back down in bed.  It took a few minutes before his heart slowed down and sleep overtook him once again.


	19. Chapter 19 - Distractions and Discussions

 

Over the course of the next two weeks, Remus and Harry continued their remodeling project, now with Ron’s help as well.  Ron was applying to the Auror program, but it didn’t start until the fall and he was waiting for his NEWT results.  In the meantime, he was helping his brothers out at the store and spending his free time at Grimmauld Place and, of course, with Hermione.

 

Tonks started stopping by regularly and they started almost daily defensive training with Ron joining in much of the time.  One day, Fred, George and even Seamus Finnigan showed up and they all practiced dueling and shields.  Order meetings were held as scheduled, but surprisingly, things were rather quiet.  It was a bit disconcerting because they knew that at any moment, Voldemort could and would launch another attack that would send them scrambling.  Certain order members were conducting almost daily surveillance on certain individuals, but of course, Harry, Ron and Hermione were forbidden from going out on these missions.  Harry’s safety was too critical for him to be out in the open.  So, instead he busied himself with training and house repairs.

 

Ginny’s almost daily presence was driving Harry to distraction.  He determined that there should be a law about girls being able to wear very short denim cut-offs when a person of the male persuasion was using tools that cut or bang very loudly in the nearby vicinity.  The hammer narrowly missed his toe when he walked in to the upstairs bedroom to find Ginny bent over a can of paint clad in said denim shorts.  The resulting crash made her knock over a pan of paint, splattering both of them in the process.  They both laughed about it for hours, finding specks of yellow on their skin for the next several days.

 

Two days after the ‘hammer incident’, as Harry now referred to it, Ginny was cleaning the molding around the top of the room as Harry attempted to fix a door knob.  Once again, Harry had a brush with death in the fact that as Ginny stretched to reach her target, Harry was faced with the sight of a bare midriff as her shirt hiked up from her shorts and he tried to screw his own hand into the door.  Of course, Ginny was the first one to render aid and the soft touch of her hands as she performed a healing spell and then kissed the wounded sight was well worth suffering through the accident in the first place.

 

However, what really left Harry with the fodder for endless dreams was the sight that met him the following Tuesday.  Ginny was out shopping with Remus for some accessories for the upstairs bedrooms.  They discovered some unique and quite beautiful vases at a shop in Diagon Alley and Ginny persuaded Remus to purchase some magical flowers to put in them.  Harry knew they had come back from shopping, but never saw Ginny as she flew upstairs to begin arranging her latest adornment to the bedrooms.

 

“Well, how did the shopping trip go?” he asked Remus as he sauntered into the kitchen.

 

“Very well, actually.  Ginny found some really interesting items.”  Remus laid down a bag on the table and headed toward the counter to make himself a sandwich.

 

“She does love to shop, doesn’t she?”  Harry smirked, finishing his lunch.

 

“Well, I have to admit, she’s good at it.  I’m amazed at her talent for pulling together a room.  This house has never looked so good.”  Remus stopped, questioning Harry’s grin.  “Harry, you know you don’t have to spend all your money on fixing up this house.”

 

“Oh, Remus.  I don’t care about the money, you know that.  In fact, it’s kind of fun to watch Ginny go out and shop.  I don’t think she had a chance to really do too much of that when she was growing up.  I’d like to buy her all kinds of pretty things.”

 

“Yes, well, she’s not purchasing things for herself, you know.  It’s all for the house.”

 

“I know.”  He paused to spin around on the bench until he was facing Remus.  “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”  

 

“Well Harry, it just occurred to me that she’s been doing a lot around here to help.  She’s here almost everyday working on this house and well….Harry, it’s pretty obvious that she’s anxious for your opinion and…”

 

“And what?”

 

“Your thanks.  Harry, why do you think she’s putting so much effort into this house?”

 

“I don’t know.  I guess she enjoys it and she wants to be around me.”

 

Remus took a bite out of his sandwich and nodded, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder for a moment.  “I think you should go and talk to her.”

 

“Um…alright.  About what?”  Harry stood up, ready to go, but still not sure why he was going.

 

“Just go and see what she brought back from our little shopping trip today.”

 

Harry nodded and started down the hallway and up the stairs.  He kept replaying Remus’ last few statements in his head as he reached the second floor landing.  Sensing that Remus was trying to tell him something without being totally obvious, Harry started talking to himself.  “So, why is she working so hard on this house?  She likes to decorate?  She likes to shop?  She wants to see me?  Well, of course she wants to see me, but she could come and see me without doing all this stuff.  Well, she just is a helpful person, right?”

 

He reached the third floor landing and headed down the hallway to the guest bedrooms where he suspected Ginny was located.  The sight that met his eyes as he walked through the doorway took his breath away.  The bright sunlight was streaming through a large window, casting its rays on the large bouquet of flowers in the center of the room, but mainly the light was framing a near perfect silhouette of Ginny’s form.  Her light blue sundress, which hadn’t seemed all that revealing when Harry saw it earlier in the morning, must have lost some of its density.  Because now, it appeared sheer as a veil, showing every curve of her body as she worked with the flowers.  When she turned to her side, Harry lost his train of thought completely, taking in the sight of her soft and yet muscular body glowing through the dress.

 

“Harry, aren’t they lovely?”

 

“Huh?”  It was the only sound that came out of his open mouth, but he was sure that at any moment he would have to find a towel to catch the drool that was forming on his lip.

 

“The flowers.  Aren’t they just lovely?”  She admired her work, adjusting the flowers into the right shape.  “And this vase is just exquisite with such delicate, soft curves and when the sun hits it in the morning, it will be…”

 

“Beautiful,” he forced out, finally bringing Ginny’s attention toward him.

 

“Yes, exactly.”  She stopped, seeing the expression on his face.  He wasn’t looking at the flowers at all, his eyes firmly fixed on her and she looked down as if to discover the reason for his transfixion, sure that she would discover a huge stain on her dress or some other cause for his trance-like stare.

 

“Is something wrong with my dress, Harry?”

 

Swallowing hard, Harry pulled himself together.  “Wrong?  No.  No.  Your dress…well, your dress is…is really n-nice.  In fact, I think you should wear it more often.”

 

She blushed and offered a sweet smile.  “Thank you, Harry.  So, what do you think of the vase and the flowers?  It’s a nice touch, isn’t it?  Oh, this whole house could be truly beautiful if we put in a little effort.  It just takes a little loving care and it would be a lovely home for a family.”

 

“A family?  Oh, um..I guess, but I don’t know who would want to live here.”

 

“Well, Harry, it’s your house.”

 

“Yeah, I know, but…”

 

“Harry, why are you doing all this work to fix it up?  Don’t you plan on living here?”

 

“Not really, Gin.  This house has some terrible memories for me.  I certainly don’t want to raise a family here or anything like that.  Besides, Ron and I have made plans to get a flat together soon.”

 

“Oh.”  That seemed to totally deflate Ginny’s sails and she brushed her hands together.  “Alright, then.”  She picked up her wand to vanish the remains of the floral stems and then smiled faintly at Harry as she walked past.  “I’m getting a headache.  I think I’ll go back to the Burrow for the rest of the day.  See you later, Harry.”

 

Harry sensed that something wasn’t right.  He wasn’t sure what he had said or done, but somehow Ginny’s whole aura changed and he knew that he shouldn’t let her leave.

 

“Gin.  Why don’t you lie down in here and rest?  I mean, you’ve made this such a comfortable room.  I have to do a bit of work and you can rest.  I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time.”

 

She didn’t answer him, but looked around the room and then absently rubbed her forehead.  Harry walked over to her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over the top of it.

 

“Please, Gin.  Don’t leave.  Just stay here for a little while.”  He pulled her toward the bed.  “After you wake up, we can do something fun.”

 

“Alright.”  She crawled up onto the blue duvet and quickly rolled away from Harry.  He stood watching her a moment, still not sure as to why she seemed upset and still enthralled by her sundress and what he saw in the sunlight.  He glanced around the room, noting how truly splendid it looked, very comfortable and inviting and he knew this was all Ginny’s doing.  _She did all this for me_.  The thought hit him like a brick and the urge to be near her and tell her how much he appreciated her seemed to fuse with his nerve endings because he quickly toed off his shoes and climbed up onto the bed, scooting over to spoon behind her.

 

*** 

 

Shock wasn’t the word to describe the sensation that went through Ginny when she felt the mattress shift.  Her eyes grew wide as she felt him slide in behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist.  The mild thumping going on in her head was replaced by the wild thumping in her chest when she realized she was lying in a bed with Harry Potter.  She struggled to keep her breathing even, not wanting to give anything away.  A moment later she felt his hand stroke the hair back from her temple in a soothing manner and then his fingers trailed along her ear and her neck as he brushed the remaining tiny wisps of hair off of her face.

 

“Gin?”  He spoke softly and she assumed he was afraid that maybe she was actually asleep.  She had a choice to answer him or to keep pretending that sleep had overtaken her and she played out each scenario.  If she kept quiet, he might leave, but if she spoke then she might have to resume their earlier conversation about the house.  She had been putting in a lot of time and energy on the house and although she did enjoy doing it, her main driving force was to help Harry have a beautiful home, a place he could relax.  After so many years of having nothing of his own, he deserved this and she wanted to make it a reality.  His revelation that he didn’t intend to live here was a bit of a shock.  Ginny hated to admit it, but a part of her hoped that someday she would live here, too.  With him.  She daydreamed about small children running through the house, playing, jumping on the beds and laughing.  To have him tell her that he didn’t want to raise a family here not only killed her own dream, but made her feel that all this work she did was useless, unnecessary and not appreciated.

 

Still, this was partly her fault for assuming Harry would want to stay here in the first place.  Her logical mind surmised that just because he didn’t appreciate the work she performed didn’t mean he didn’t still want to be with her.  Well, look where he was at the moment.  He was holding her very close on a big, comfortable bed and trying to soothe her self-imposed headache.

 

“Ginny?  Are you asleep?”  Again, his voice was very soft.

 

“No.”  All right, she just opened up the discussion, but she remained on her side, not looking at him as he spoke.

 

“Ginny.  I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for all the work you’ve been doing around the house.  I mean…this room is just amazing.  You’re amazing.”

 

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

 

“Please turn over so I can see you.”

 

She rolled to her left, putting herself on her back and looked up into his emerald gaze.  His hand slid around to rest on her stomach.

 

“Ginny, you did all this for me, didn’t you?”

 

She nodded her head and looked away.

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by what I said before.  I guess I just never realized that you were doing all this so I’d have a nice place to live.  Sometimes I can be a bit thick.”

 

“No, I’m sorry I assumed certain things.  I just thought that maybe someday this would be…” she stopped, realizing she was about to overstep her bounds, “Never mind.”

 

*** 

 

A light bulb clicked on in Harry’s brain, leaving him surprised, very pleased and still somewhat unsure of what to say next.  He could come right out and say it.  Ginny wanted this to be her home someday.  He was sure of it, but that would be too embarrassing to just say, so he decided to approach it a bit differently.

 

“You know, this would make a really nice master bedroom.  I really like what you’ve done with it.  It’s not too girly, but very comfortable.  I may just have to rethink that whole idea about not living here.  Of course, it wouldn’t be the same without you here as well.  Maybe after you finish school, you could move in here with me for a while, until you figure out what you want to do with your career and all that.”

 

“Harry, stop it.”  She swatted at his arm playfully.

 

“Stop what?”  he grinned.

 

“Stop joking around.”

 

“Who says I’m joking?”

 

“You just told me that you didn’t want to live here and now you’re suggesting that I move in with you?  Look, you don’t have to do that.  If you really don’t want to live here, then just say it.  It’s alright.  I’ll understand.”  She pulled herself up to sit beside him.

 

“Yes, it’s true, I did say that earlier, but then I took a look around at what you’ve done with this place.”

 

“What we’ve done and Remus, too.”

 

“Yes, what we’ve done with this place really is changing my perspective.  This room in particular is my favorite.  I think I’d have to make this my bedroom.”

 

“Well, this is my favorite, too.  And, since I did so much work on it, I think it’s only fair that it gets to be my room.”  He could tell that her serious tone was concealing a small smile.

 

“Oh, so are you changing your mind about the whole ‘moving in with me’ idea?”

 

She smiled, but examined his face as he spoke, still trying to determine if this was all a joke or if he was truly serious.  The way he looked right now made her pause.

 

“You’re serious? I mean about me living here with you?”

 

“Well, yes, I’m serious.”  The smile dropped off her face as she considered what he was truly asking of her.  Suddenly, he stood up on the bed.

 

“Do you think this bed is strong enough?”  Harry started jumping on the bed and Ginny bounced about at his feet, giggling as he spun around.

 

“Strong enough for what?” she squeaked out with delight, clutching a pillow and scooting up near the headboard as Harry continued his gymnastics on the mattress before he landed on his arse with a springy crash.  Ginny screamed in laughter.

 

“Harry!”

 

“Strong enough for the two of us!”  He panted as the bed springs finally returned to normal, a huge smile on his face.  “Well, if this is your favorite room and it’s my favorite room, then I guess we’d have to share, wouldn’t we?”

 

She flung the pillow at him and then looked very vulnerable as she must have realized she didn’t have any ammunition left.  “Ooo, pillow fight?  Or maybe, tickle fight!”  He pounced on her, grabbing at her rib cage with a huge grin on his face.  She immediately started squirming, giggling and screaming for him to stop.  The two of them rolled around on the bed, both laughing with delight until Remus’ voice broke through the gaiety.

 

“What in the world is going on….” Remus and Tonks stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of two very disheveled teenagers, their hair in a wild mess, clothing shifted in every direction and big smiles on their faces as they breathed heavily.

 

“Hiya Tonks!”  Harry waved and then added “We’re just having a tickle fight.  Care to join us?”  Another giggle escaped Ginny’s mouth.

 

Remus was still standing with his mouth open as Tonks replied, “Well, I don’t know Harry.  What do you think Remus?  Want to join in?” and she nudged his ribs.  Remus shifted into the room a bit more and put up a placating hand.  

 

“Um…no, I don’t think…”

 

“Oh, come on Remus.  Live a little!”  And with that Tonks let loose a full barrage of rib tickling jabs that sent Remus scurrying around the room.

 

Harry decided that was his cue to continue and grabbed one of Ginny’s feet and started back in. 

 

“Harry!!!”  

 

A moment later, Tonks chased Remus back to the door and he laughed and ran out of the room in a delighted panic.  “I didn’t know that wolf boy was ticklish!”  Tonks flew out of the room in pursuit of her prey and Harry faintly heard Remus cry out in happiness a moment later.

 

“Stop!  Stop”  Ginny called out and Harry was merciful, letting her foot go and falling back down on top of her, one wrist held in each hand.  

 

“Do you give up?”

 

Ginny just nodded, unable to speak in her current state of breathlessness.  It only took a few seconds for the energy in the room to change from that of playfulness to passion.  As they looked into each others’ eyes, Harry took a few last deep breaths and plunged his lips down onto hers.

 

However, before either of them could sink into the sensation, they both heard another scream of giggles coming up the stairs and they broke apart, both smiling at one another.  Harry quickly released her and climbed off the bed, holding out a hand to help her up.

 

When she finally stood, her hair was a mess and her dress was shifted on her so that one edge of the skirt was tucked into her knickers and one strap was falling down her arm.  Harry’s eyes grew wide to join his already huge smile as he carefully reached over and slid the strap back up her arm.  

 

“I love that dress,” he offered as she was trying to pat down her hair and straighten her clothing.  “Um…Ginny…your dress is.”

 

“Yes, you already told me…you love it!”

 

“No, I mean your skirt.”  He pointed at the place where her leg and a good portion of white knickers were showing.  As she looked down and realized what he was gaping at, her face turned bright red as she quickly pulled the fabric loose, allowing it to fall back into place.

 

Obviously deciding to escape her embarrassment as quickly as possible, she grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him out of the room.  “Come on, Harry.  There’s work to be done.”

 

*** 

 

The day following Hermione’s visit, Draco woke.  Rubbing his face, he looked around his sumptuous but very empty suite.  The newness hadn’t worn off in the least and he did enjoy the various accoutrements that adorned his room.  It was comfortable and yet luxurious, everything that a Malfoy home should be.  Still, it was awfully quiet.

 

He shuffled to the loo, stopping to stare at the mop of blond hair staring back at him from the mirror.  Stripping off his pajama pants, he stopped to admire himself for a moment.

 

“What does Weasley got that I haven’t?  I look good, I have money.  I mean, I’ve even been remarkably charming.  What is it?”

 

He quickly showered and wandered to the kitchen in search of some tea and scones.  One of the Malfoy house elves had moved with him to the new flat and already had breakfast prepared for him.  He wasn’t accustomed to thanking the creature, for they were his after all, but he thought of Hermione’s reaction from the previous day and mumbled out a ingenuine, but manageable “Thanks” as he sat down.

 

“Does Master require anything else?”

 

“Yes, a quill and some nice stationary.”

 

A moment later, the requested supplies were beside him and the house elf disappeared, surely off to do whatever they normally did.  Draco shrugged as he disappeared with a soft pop.  His little meeting with Hermione hadn’t gone as planned the day before leaving him to formulate a new plan.  He raised the quill and began a letter.

 

“Dear Hermione,

 

Please accept my apologies for my unseemly behavior yesterday.”

 

Pausing to look at the words, he quickly crumbled the parchment and a quick Incendio turned it to dust.  Returning the quill to paper, he began again.

 

“Hermione,

 

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

 

Again, the paper was quickly smashed into a ball and destroyed within seconds.  Resting the quill back in its pot, he pushed back from the table and wandered out to the patio in the back of his flat.  He couldn’t seem to focus on the problem at hand and it was frustrating him.

 

There were two warring factions in Draco Malfoy’s mind and just the fact that they were at odds was enough to drive him to distraction.  His mission was clear.  He had been assigned a task – spy on the trio, obtain information, befriend them.  And he had done it; well, he had at least befriended one and made a good start with Potter.  Glancing at the place on his arm where the remains of his silvery scars still marred his skin, he tried to remind himself of the consequences of not following through with his actions.  It just seemed that lately, every time he contemplated his next move, her face would appear in his thoughts.

 

Somewhere along the way, Hermione had turned from a ruse to the real thing.  All those times he turned on the charm, touched her, kissed her and each time with the clear intent to earn her trust for Voldemort’s gain, instead became earning her trust for Draco Malfoy’s gain.  He wanted her and it was becoming more important to him than fulfilling some task for the Dark Lord.  It was becoming personal.

 

“Damn it!” he called out, slamming his fist against the railing lining his patio.  In doing so, he knocked over the plant that had been sitting on the ledge.  Only because it had been Hermione’s gift to him did he bother to bend over and pick it up.

 

The tugging sensation occurred immediately and Draco found himself swirling through a maze of clouds and trees and with a hard thud found himself laying on the ground.  Being unprepared for a Portkey was never a good thing and he slowly pulled himself up sensing someone would be blamed for the large bruise that was certainly forming on his hip.

 

One quick glance at his surroundings put him in a forest somewhere and he scanned the area, his eyes finding the culprit just as he spoke.

 

“Draco.  We have to talk.”

 

“Dammit, why do you have to do that?”

 

“You know why, you foolish boy.  There’s far too much at stake for both of us.  At least you have the luxury of living a somewhat normal life while I’ve been forced into the shadows, skulking about dark corners and covering my trails.”

 

Draco dusted himself off as he stood.  “I should figure you’d feel quite at home in dark corners.”

 

“You can learn to show the proper respect.  Just because you’ve finished Hogwarts doesn’t mean that suddenly you’ve become my equal.  You’re becoming even more arrogant than your father.”

 

Draco folded his arms over his chest, prepared to tolerate the tongue lashing that usually occurred when in Snape’s presence as he lowered the hood on his robe.  In a flash, it became abundantly clear how insecure his life really was.  Draco’s stomach sickened at the realization that Snape had been on his patio, changing potted plants to portkeys.  What was worse, he obviously knew that Hermione had given it to him – hence, it’s importance. 

 

“Then why do you keep checking on me?  I don’t need a babysitter.”

 

Snape took a threatening step forward. “You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me, you ungrateful toad!”

 

“I know!”  Draco raised a placating hand.  “I haven’t forgotten what you did for me and I’m grateful.  I am, alright?  But a lot has changed this year.  I’ve changed a lot this year.”

 

“Yes.  I can see that.  Would this have anything to do with the Granger girl?”  Snape began a slow sweeping walk around Draco, his fingers folded and thumbs pressed together in front of him.

 

“What does she have to do with this?”  Suddenly Draco felt a surge of protectiveness as if he needed to defend her.  It was eerie.

 

“I’ve been watching you and I’m starting to wonder about this little task of yours.  I think Granger is starting to rub off on you and in a very unbecoming way.”

 

Draco snapped his head around to respond.  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Didn’t you tell me your instructions were to use your charms to befriend the girl and then get in with Weasley and Potter?  Well, it seems apparent that you’ve done a poor job managing two thirds of your mission and one third tapping your own urges.”

 

“Urges?”

 

“You forget that I was there that night on the astronomy tower.  I know you confronted her.  Then, just days ago I find you cornering her on your own balcony, like a she-dog in heat.  This isn’t some youthful romance, Draco.  You’re dealing with powerful forces – forces that could end your life in a heartbeat if you don’t play your cards right.”

 

Draco knew that Snape was right.  There was little point in arguing with him.  Still, he didn’t know exactly what to do about it.  He felt truly stuck between a life he wanted and a life thrust upon him that had little to no hope of success and even a less likelihood of longevity.  His voice had a sense of resignation when he spoke again.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

The response he got wasn’t expected as Snape continued to circle him.  “I want you to make a decision – a rather difficult decision about how you are going to live your life.  I made a promise to your Mother to keep you safe.  Well, it’s coming down to the end boy, and your being safe will all depend on the path you choose and those you choose to align yourself with.”

 

Draco knew he was being tested and decided to speak firmly and quickly to quash any suspicions Snape might have.  Draco never believed those who said that Snape was loyal to Dumbledore and to the Order of the Phoenix.  He was a Death Eater through and through.  So, choosing any other side, especially in his presence, was not a wise thing to do and he spoke accordingly.  “I chose my path years ago and I know exactly whom I am aligned with.  Are you standing there questioning my loyalty?”

 

“Should I be?  I heard a rumor that you weren’t entirely truthful with your father last month when he asked you about Potter’s little trip to Birmingham.”

 

“What?  What are you talking about?”  

 

Snape found a fallen log and finally stopped his incessant pacing to sit for a moment.  Draco got the funny feeling that he should do the same and opted to lean against a nearby tree, trying to appear casual and not as unnerved as he felt.  How did Snape know that he lied?  Had he spoken to Potter?  After all, Draco had heard this direct from Potter himself.

 

“Potter brought something back from Birmingham with him.  He said it was important.  Do you know what it was?”

 

“No.  I wasn’t aware of anything.”

 

“Potter is up to something.  He was working with Dumbledore before his death and he’s continued on with it all this year.  Besides that, his friends in the Order have also discovered some other very interesting artifacts in Egypt this year.  Do you know anything about that?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well then, you’re just a wealth of information, aren’t you?”

 

“Look, I’ve done the best I could!  You know that!”

 

“I think you’ve done the best you could without risking your own skin.  So very Slytherin of you, Draco.”

 

“Well at least that miserable sorting hat did its job correctly.”

 

“Yes, it would seem so, but I wonder sometimes about you.”  Snape stood, lifting his hood back onto his head as he spoke.  “There is one phrase that Dumbledore told me that I find to be very true.  He was a bit foolish, but very wise at times and I know he’s also told Potter the same thing.”  Speaking slowly, he approached Draco.  “Soon you will have to choose between what is right and what is easy.  So, Draco, I pose the same question to you.  What are you going to choose?”  One eyebrow quirked up as if waiting on a reply, but not expecting to receive it.

 

Draco felt drawn to his gaze, but instantly recognized it as the mark of a finely trained Legilimens and he instinctively blocked his mind to his best abilities.  It was pretty clear that Snape was attempting to read him and despite the fact that the man had saved his life, he still didn’t trust anyone looking around in his thoughts.  Especially not now with all kinds of contradictory statements hitting him from every angle.

 

Snape’s words were sharp, the consonants driving home the message as he spit out each word with precision.  “Think about it.”

 

As if he wasn’t already locked in the same throes of indecision before, now Snape had to increase the odds.  It was clear, Draco didn’t have a choice.  He would side with the faction that proved the least vulnerable.  Hermione’s face danced before his thoughts again and he dropped his focus, unable to look Snape in the eye when contemplating his feelings for her.

 

“My advice to you, Draco, is to get back in Granger’s good graces and stay there.  Try to find out about what happened in Egypt.  Looks like the oldest Weasley brother was down there asking a lot of questions and apparently working for certain parties who have connections to the Dark Lord.  We need to know why.  Do you think you can handle that?”

 

“Yes, I can handle it.”

 

“Good.  I’ll be in touch.”

 

With a pop, Snape was gone.  Draco promptly Apparated back to his flat and sat down at the table, confronted once again with the harsh reminder of his role and a renewed sense of determination as he composed a letter to Hermione.

 

It was chock full of all the right things to say: apologetic, friendly, and emotional.  When he finished, he smiled as he read it through, sure it would pull on all of her heart strings just as planned.  With his quill poised to sign the letter, he paused and let out a deep breath.  Despite his instructions, he still held on to a spot within him that was only meant for her and it told him to add something to this letter – something that would be from the real and true Draco Malfoy, not the manipulative, contriving louse he had become and so he closed it.

 

“Love,

Draco”

 


	20. Chapter 20 - Discoveries

  
Author's notes: Sorry it's been a while since updating.  Life has been hectic and will continue to be so until Spring.  Thank you to everyone who continues to leave fantastic reviews.  You truly make my day!!  


* * *

 

Bill came by a couple of days after Remus found the trunk and explained that he had brought it back with him from Egypt and forgot to tell Remus that it was stored in the house.  He was shocked that they had found a way to open it when he and Ron had both tried numerous methods and failed.

 

Bill spent quite a bit of time investigating the contents of the now opened chest while sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld, while Remus, Harry, Ron and Ginny worked on the house.  One afternoon, the quiet of the house was shattered as a resounding “YES!”  bellowed from the kitchen.  Everyone came running to find Bill with a very pleased look on his face.

 

“Bloody hell!  What’s going on, Bill?”  Ron demanded being the first one to arrive in the kitchen.  Harry, Ginny and Remus flew in a second later.

 

“I think I’ve decrypted this and you won’t believe it!  Come here and sit down.”

 

They all gathered around Bill and the kitchen table, covered in various scrolls, books and items found in the chest.

 

“Alright.”  He looked at Ron to make sure he was on the same page.  “So, when Ron came out to help me last fall, I was trying to decipher some Egyptian text on some rather old scrolls.  Now, they weren’t ancient Egyptian.  This is not some stuff that a famous pharaoh wrote or anything, they’re actually between about 900 and 1500 years old.

 

I was speaking with another curse breaker and we got to talking about our families and I mentioned about having six brothers and a youngest sister.  He looked at me kind of odd and started asking a lot of questions.  Not long after that he brought me these scrolls and said he had heard of a story from one of the elders in a nearby village that told of a curse that was placed on a woman years ago and it was said that the curse would show itself with the seventh sister of the seventh family of the seventh generation.  He also spoke of the woman and described her long copper hair, something that was a bit of an oddity at the time, and how she was having a love affair with a man of great power.  It was said that this man was destined for greatness, although he was young in age.  It went on to state that this man was also from a noble family and had many friends that were looking out for him in his quest to usurp a powerful, but evil faction that was threatening the good of the people.”

 

Bill saw the somewhat enlightened expressions of those around him at the similarities and raised a hand to hold off any oncoming questions.  “Wait.  It gets better.”  He shifted to get more comfortable, all eyes still trained on him.

 

“It was said that somehow the representatives in the forces of evil placed a curse on the young man and shortly thereafter, he was defeated…that is, he was killed.  So, then the legend goes on to say that the woman mourned for seven years, visiting her love’s grave every seven days and on the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year she had a vision and in this vision, she was told that the curse on her beloved would be lifted when the seventh woman of the seventh generation of the seventh family was forced to relive the story and all parties would ask for retribution.”

 

“Retribution?”  Hermione shook her head in apparent disbelief while everyone else sat in silence for a moment.  Ron had already heard about a portion of this story, but not the entire thing and he was the first to speak up.  

 

“So, why do you think there is a connection with _our_ family?  I mean, there must be lots of red-headed women that are the seventh sibling in a family.”

 

“Well, that’s the thing.  I would have written this off as well, but something told me to keep investigating and as I did, I kept finding more small pieces of the puzzle.”  He glanced down at some notes in front of him.  “Little things like how the cursed man was, and I quote, raven-haired with eyes as green as jade.”  Bill shot a pointed look toward Harry.

 

Grabbing another scroll, he rolled it open, his finger quickly scanning to find the item he was searching for.  “Then, here, here, look, his royal guards were sworn to protect him with a mark of power and loyalty, each representing the power of the sun.  One the color of dawn and one as the sun sets.”

 

Harry finally managed to get past the ‘raven-haired with green eyes’ comment and jumped in.  “If they’re talking about me, then who are the two guards?  I mean, I don’t have any body guards.”

 

“Not technically, no, but, there are members of the Order who protect you.  Heck, Ron is probably your biggest defender.  Maybe ‘as the sun sets’ refers to the time of day, the color or to the end of an era.  I really don’t know, but still, this is fascinating.”

 

“Alright, so, why did you yell before?”

 

“I think I might have found the connection of the seventh daughter of the seventh family of the seventh generation.  And, I think it is indeed referring to Ginny.”

 

“What?”  Ginny’s mouth fell open as most of the room looked in her direction.

 

“Well, I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, but I think I found a connection.  It’s not a direct descendancy like in a regular family.  It’s through a connection of families that all have seven children, with the last being a daughter.  Each is related to the other, but it’s not like you are a great-great-great-great granddaughter or anything.  There were a lot more wizarding families hundreds of years ago than there are today.  So, it’s been kind of hard to figure this out.”

 

Harry and Ginny both took a seat, looking a little dizzy at all of this information.  

 

“Look, “ Bill went on. “I still have lots of research to do, but this man told me that the curse was powerful and should it be lifted…well, it’s like we would be reliving the whole scenario and therefore, it would grant the love of this woman substantial power.  I’m assuming it means you, Harry, and you’d have power enough to eliminate the evil faction that threatens you and who else would that be!  I mean, if any of this is true and not just the babblings of an old man, then this could have serious consequences for us.”

 

Hermione spoke up again, always the voice of reason and not one to believe in prophesy and dreams.  “Yes, well, like you said, this could be just a story and you could be wasting your time on something that means nothing.  So many of those old stories are just folklore.  They can’t explain how something happened so they make up the story that someone was cursed.  It’s just rubbish if you ask me.”  

 

“I know, but something tells me I have to keep studying this.  I don’t want to give up on it.”

 

“No, Bill, that’s fine.  You keep on researching if you feel that strongly about it,” Harry instructed.  “Maybe Hermione could help you.  She’s a wonder at this kind of stuff.”

 

“Me?  I don’t know anything about curse breaking.  Besides…”

 

“Yes, but you could help with the decryption,” Bill offered, hoping that she’d agree.

 

“Well, alright.  If you think I could help.”

 

*** 

 

Harry, meanwhile, had a repeat of his dream, but didn’t wake up screaming this time.  The second dream was almost identical, but he saw a bit more of himself and of Ginny and realized that they themselves looked darker, sort of Middle Eastern.  He shook it off, realizing he had been thinking of that chest and Bill’s fantastical story too much and it was following him into his sleep.

 

“Harry.”

 

Maybe he was falling back into his dream again, because he was sure that he heard Ginny’s voice calling him.  The sheets were too warm and he pushed them down allowing the cool air to rush over his bare chest.  The summer nights had been very warm, leaving Harry to sleep in a pair of boxers.  Still tangled up in his sheets, he attempted to kick off the remaining covers when his foot came in to contact with something firm.

 

“Ouch!  Harry, be careful!”

 

That did the trick.  Now he was awake and he blinked his eyes open, his right hand reaching toward his night table to search for his glasses.  When he didn’t find them, he rose up on his elbows and squinted, only then realizing that they were being held out in front of him.  The result of sliding on his glasses was that he saw the tail end of Ginny rubbing her hip with a grimace on her face, obviously where he had just kicked her, but secondly noticing that her eyes were not looking at his face, but were firmly fixed on his chest.

 

“Ginny!”  Her head snapped up to look him in the eyes.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“Good morning to you, too.”  Her tone pretty much said it all and Harry didn’t need to be told what to do next.

 

“I’m sorry, Ginny.”  He pulled himself up to a sitting position.  “Good morning.  Um…I was just surprised to see you…pleasantly surprised,” he added with a smile.

 

She perked right up and, with a huge smile, pulled both of her legs up onto the bed next to him.  “I thought I’d surprise you!  I brought breakfast.”  She opened the napkin in her lap to reveal several buttered biscuits and some bacon.  Harry reached down, pulling out some of the bacon and muttering “thanks” when he looked back and saw her biting her lower lip as her eyes had veered off course again.

 

“Enjoying the view?”  He wasn’t sure if her cheeks could get any closer to the color of her hair, but he knew, based on the warm sensation he was feeling himself, that his face must be nearing the same color.

 

She looked everywhere except into his eyes, until he reached up and tilted her face back toward him.  Only after her eyes were firmly set on his did he continue.  “I’m flattered.”

 

Her eyes closed.  ”Oh Merlin.”

 

*** 

 

She felt the mattress shift and the biscuits were lifted out of her hands.  She wanted to run, but something kept her firmly in place.  A second later she felt two hands sliding down her arms and then heard a deep voice.  “Ginny, open your eyes.”

 

When her eyes opened, so did her mouth.  “I’m sorry, Harry.  I didn’t mean to stare like that, but….well….blimey, Harry.  You’re lying here without a shirt on and you’re….well…you’re gorgeous.”  This spilled out so fast that she barely noticed the grin on his face and the way his hands had snaked their way around her back.

 

“Not as gorgeous as you.”  She felt herself shifting backward as Harry held her waist and shoulders and suddenly she was flat on her back and Harry’s bare chest was pressed against her.  Never moving closer, Harry just studied her face, their noses only a breath away, retaining that grin on his face.  Ginny allowed her hands to stroke his back, running them up past his shoulder blades and back down to the sides of his waist, taking in every muscle, every curve.  His skin was cool to the touch, but her hands felt overwhelmingly hot.  

 

She felt that they were on the precipice of something huge.  Either one of them need only move a couple of inches.  They were alone, on his bed, he was shirtless and no one was in the house except for Remus.  The desire to reach out and initiate something was almost as strong as her need for him to make the next move.

 

A moment later, she felt his hand running through her hair and she shifted toward him.  The intensity of his stare was proof positive of his desire for her, but he maintained his position.  “Gin.”  His breathing had become more rough and uneven.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Um…I…I just came to wake you up.”

 

 “Well, I’m awake.  So, now what?”

 

_So, now you can snog me senseless_.  That’s what she was thinking, but she wasn’t able to voice that.  She was just about to throw caution to the wind when Harry took the initiative and leaned in for a very soft, but very firm kiss.  His lips pressed against hers as she took the entire weight of his lower body onto her.  The softness of his lips moved over hers and then she felt the moisture as his tongue reached out to stroke her lower lip – gently, carefully and with questioning acceptance.  Her lips rewarded him with a deepened kiss.  Ginny’s mind raced, trying to decide what she would allow to happen next and how far this was going to go as her hands continued to stroke over his bare back.

 

She sucked in a breath as his fingers found the hem of her shirt and inched it up until she felt the heat of his palm against her side.  Then he shifted his weight to her side and his lips slid down to her jaw.

 

“You are so beautiful,” his voice whispered as he continued to rain tiny kisses down her neck and his left hand moved north, exploring the soft skin of her stomach.  

 

Ginny wanted him to continue and yet felt frozen with fear at the prospect of having him go any farther.  She loved this young man so much.  She had for many years and she was sure that he was beginning to feel the same way.  Yet, another voice in her head kept telling her that she should wait just a little longer.

 

As his hand skimmed the softness of her ribcage, she felt lost in the incredible tingling feeling that was washing over her and was just about to give in to her body’s need to continue when there was a creaking noise on the steps outside their room.

 

They both heard it and immediately stopped their movement, remaining perfectly still as they listened for further evidence of a presence.

 

“Harry?”  It was Remus’ voice outside the door as he knocked.  Harry rolled off the bed quickly, looking down at his state of undress and frantically scanned the room for anything to hold in front of him.  Grabbing his jeans, he tried to hold them at his waist in what appeared to be a casual fashion and went to the door.  Ginny sat up, smoothing her clothes and moved to the nearby chair, grabbing the breakfast napkin and laying it in her lap.

 

Harry opened the door, just a bit.  “Yes?”

 

“Oh, good morning, Harry.  I’m sorry to intrude, but is Ginny here?”

 

Harry swung the door open and Remus saw her sitting in the chair.  She put on a bright, innocent smile.  “Good morning, Professor.  I was just bringing Harry some breakfast.”

 

“Ah, yes, I see that.  Fine.  Your Mother was just concerned when she found you gone.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I assumed she’d know I was over here.  I’ll have to remember to leave a note the next time.”  She nodded, trying to swallow down her panic.

 

Remus’ gaze shifted from Ginny to the bed and to Harry in nothing but his boxers with a pair of denims in his hand.  Ginny was sure she saw a small smirk in the corner of his mouth, but he just continued on as if nothing were out of the ordinary.  “Yes, you should probably do that.  Well, I’m going to get started on the third floor loo repair.  So, if you want to um…get dressed,” he eyed Harry with a significant look, “and finish your breakfast,” he stressed the last word as he smiled at Ginny, “then you can join me.”

 

Harry ran a quick hand through his hair before putting it on his hip, still leaning against the door.  “Oh, um…yeah, we’ll be done in a minute.”  Then, realizing what he just said, his face grew a bit pinker.  “I mean…I’ll be done…I mean dressed and up in a few minutes.”

 

Remus smiled, again shifting a knowing grin to a very innocent looking Ginny.  “Fine.  I’ll see you upstairs.”  Harry closed the door and spun around to mouth ‘that was close’ to her as she stifled a giggle with her hand.  He tossed the jeans on the bed and then collapsed next to them, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

 

“Um…well, I guess I should go and let you get dressed.”  She stood up and laid the napkin on the bedside table when a hand reached out and took her by the wrist.

 

“Thanks for bringing me breakfast.”  He pulled her down on top of him and she giggled as she landed.

 

“Harry!  We have to go!”  She tried to pull herself back up, but his arm reached around her waist, holding her down.

 

“I know.”  He reached up to stroke the hair back from her face, sweeping it around the back of her neck so that it fell over one shoulder.  “I…I just wanted you to know…”

 

There was silence for a few seconds as Harry studied her features, rubbing a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone.

 

“What?”  The corners of her mouth inched up, but fell again as she felt swallowed up by the depth of emotion that was pouring from his soulful eyes.

 

Still, the silence continued and Ginny studied him as he appeared to be working out what he wanted to say, all the time his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks.

 

“Just that you’re beautiful and… I’m….I’m falling in love with you.”

 

The huge smile on her face was quickly interrupted by another kiss.  Once again, those sensations were overtaking her body, but this time they were multiplied ten fold and she was only seconds from making a very rash decision when Harry pushed her back off of him and rolled her to the side.  He sat up, flushed and trying to control his breathing.

 

“Gin.  We have to stop.”  She frowned at him and he quickly explained.  “Oh, it’s not that I want to stop, but Remus…”  He swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “He’s waiting.”

 

“Sure.  I understand.”  She knew it was best that they stop as well, but couldn’t help the tone of disappointment that accompanied her words.  

 

Harry paused to run a hand up her arm.  “You know, I meant what I just said.  I mean, about falling in love with you.”

 

Ginny spoke softly, reaching out to cup his cheek.  “Good.  Because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”  She placed a very light, soft kiss on his lips and then pulled back with a warm smile.

 

“You’d better get dressed,” she said, making her way toward the door.

 

“Gin.”

 

“Yes?”  She turned around the doorknob in her hand.

 

“Would you have dinner with me tonight?  I mean, in London.  Would you go out with me tonight for dinner?”

 

“Do you think it’s safe?  Mum doesn’t even like me to leave the Burrow.  I’m not sure if she’d be too keen on my going into London.”

 

“I’ll make sure it’s safe and speak to your Mum.  So, will you go with me?”

 

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

 

*** 

 

The following morning, Harry woke feeling better than he had in months.  After a rather heart-felt discussion with Mrs. Weasley and accepting the fact that he and Ginny would have nearly a squad of Aurors and Order members in the area, he got his dinner date.  They had a fabulous time sharing a sumptuous meal and hours of meaningful and sometimes humorous conversation.  Despite the nearby security, they managed a somewhat romantic walk along the Thames under a starry sky and after arriving home and loosing their security detail, they ducked into the garden for a snog session that Harry would chronicle amongst the best of his life.

 

After a quick shower, he was about to get breakfast when he heard a loud female voice from upstairs. 

 

“Ouch!”

 

His brow furrowed in concern, he ascended one more floor and listened for the source of the cry as he went room to room, eventually, walking in on Hermione.  She wore a pained expression and withdrew the tip of her finger from her mouth, examining some apparent injury.

 

“You alright Hermione?”

 

“Yes.  Darn chest.”

 

“What are you doing?”  he asked, glancing down the worn wooden crate.

 

“I decided to take another look at this chest to see if I could get any clues to help Bill.”  She shook her hand as if the friction of the air would help her wounded finger.

 

“Alright, well, I don’t think there’s much to find.  It’s pretty old and worn.”

 

“True.  However, I’m curious about this pattern around the edge of the lid.”

 

Harry realized he hadn’t noticed any pattern, thinking the design along the lids lip was simply some ornate carving.  She pulled out her wand, summoned a piece of parchment and called out a spell that took a rubbing of the design embossed around the chest’s top.

 

“Interesting.”  She held it up for Harry to see, but all he really noticed was a series of lines carved this way and that.  “I’m going to take this down to Bill and see what he makes of it.”

 

Hermione was deep in thought and walked past Harry without even making eye contact.  He bent down to examine the design himself for a moment and then shrugged and followed her down the stairs.

 

*** 

 

After their dinner date, Harry and Ginny became even closer.  Apparently, Harry no longer felt embarrassed about public displays of affection and seemed to take great enjoyment from nuzzling her neck, kissing her or wrapping his arms around her during any time of the day or night.  Of course, they were still cautious when in Diagon Alley or other places where possible Death Eaters might be watching, but found they could relax and be themselves around their friends and family.  Ginny even noticed her parents giving small smiles in their direction on the couple of occasions they had witnessed him holding her hand or putting his arm around her.

 

She snuck out of the Burrow on a couple of evenings and spent time with Harry at Grimmauld.  Twice in the course of two weeks she discovered him in the throes of a nightmare and climbed into bed next to him in an effort to calm him.  Both times it worked and he instantly settled and fell back asleep.  Now, why she could sense his distress was another question.  Even after she had fallen asleep, something would wake her and tell her that he needed her with him.  She tried to go back to sleep the first time it had occurred, but something, some force shocked her awake and insisted she go and check on him.

 

She was always careful about getting back home and not allowing herself to fall asleep and spend the entire night.  She started questioning him about the dreams.  At first he was reluctant to say anything, but he finally told her about them and told Bill as well since they seemed to be related to his research.  It was both frightening and mysterious.

 

“Hmm.  That’s very interesting, Harry.  Your dream does have some similarities to this whole story, but it could just be coincidence and an active imagination as well.”

 

“Yeah, I know.  I just thought, since I’ve had this dream repeat about four times, that maybe there was some significance.  You have to remember that my dreams aren’t always just fiction.  That time that I saw your Dad being attacked…”

 

“I realize that, Harry.  I’m not saying it means nothing, but it could just be a dream.”

 

Bill turned his gaze back to the rubbing that Hermione had taken.

 

“So, anything new otherwise?”  Harry asked.

 

“Well, Hermione believes that this pattern from the chest is a pattern of numbers.  They appear to be a combination of Roman numerals and Sanskrit and she’s been going through it and coming up with every possible numeric combination.  We’re not sure what it means, but she’s writing it out anyway.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“Not with this, but I would like to talk to you about something else.”

 

“Um…alright.”  Harry unconsciously slipped his hands in his pockets.

 

Bill spun around on the bench and pulled the nearby chair a bit closer.  “Why don’t you sit.”

 

A sudden wave of unease came over Harry, but he wasn’t sure why.  Something in Bill’s tone told him he wasn’t going to enjoy this.

 

“Harry, you know that we all think of you as another brother.  My Mum and Dad adore you and we all support you in everything you do.”

 

Harry simply nodded.

 

“Look, I’m the oldest, but I’m not in the same generation as my parents.  They have slightly different values than I do, but I still feel an obligation to look out for my siblings, especially my baby sister.”

 

Harry realized about halfway through that speech what Bill was getting at and he shifted a bit in his chair, wondering what was coming next.

 

“I can see that you and she are getting much closer and spending more time with each other and I think it’s great, but I‘m also a sexually active man and I was seventeen not too long ago so, I know what you’re feeling.”

 

Harry tried to cut him off, hoping that a flat out denial of their intimacy would put an end to the conversation and the rising temperature in his cheeks.  “Bill, we haven’t done anything.”

 

“Well, that’s good, but knowing Ginny, well, she’s a very vibrant, curious and passionate girl and I wouldn’t put it past her to um…encourage you to explore those possibilities a bit more.  Harry, she’s only sixteen years old.  You have to keep repeating that in your head.  Sixteen.  If she were nineteen or twenty I’d say, go for it.  Well, not actually, I’d still probably be protective, but sixteen is just too young.”

 

“Um…okay.”

 

“Okay?  That’s all you have to say?”

 

Harry was now starting to feel like he was shrinking to about the size of a fly and Bill was hovering over him with a giant swatter about to knock his lights out, He realized he wasn’t far off the mark when he heard the next statement.

 

“Harry.  I’ll put this plain and simple.  I don’t care if you kiss her, date her, hold her hand, but… keep your damn pants on and stay out of hers or you will have to deal with me and my brothers on a very personal and very uncomfortable level.  Clear?”

 

The trickle of sweat that was threatening to run down his back at least reminded him that he wasn’t a fly, but was in serious danger of bodily harm and he just shook his head very quickly and vehemently, making sure that Bill saw his understanding.

 

“Good.  Sorry to be so rough on ya mate, but…remember…sixteen.”  Bill stood up, scooping up the stacks of parchment.  “Well, I’ve got to run.  Promised Fleur that I’d be home tonight.  It’s our first anniversary and she has something special planned.”

 

Harry seemed to come out of his stupor and seeing an easy way to change the subject, quickly jumped in.  “Yeah?  Well, happy anniversary.  I can’t believe it’s been a whole year.”

 

“Yeah, well maybe someday….many years from now…you and my sister might be celebrating the same thing.”

 

_Oh, so first he threatens you if you go anywhere near Ginny and then he has you married with kids before you can even end the conversation,_ Harry thought _..  This is confusing._   He really didn’t know what to say and just shrugged as Bill grabbed the last of his papers and said a quick goodbye and Apparated away.

 


	21. Chapter 21 - Dreams, Screams & Expectations

  
Author's notes:

 

Thank you to everyone for the lovely reviews.  I love hearing from all of you.  I wanted to give a quick thank you to Indie for the beta help and to Thevina who has been working on this for months and months now.  Things are about to get a bit more complicated.

 

* * *

A few nights later Harry climbed into bed as usual, after having spent a tiring afternoon hanging a giant crystal chandelier in the front foyer.  Again, the ornate fixture was Ginny’s selection and it looked stunning, but the effort took Ron, Remus and him several hours to mount, even _with_ using magic.  

 

And, something else quite amazing occurred that afternoon that still left Harry a bit shook up.  Remus levitated the chandelier as Ron and Harry worked to secure it to the ceiling, both of them balancing on a ladder since Remus couldn’t levitate the chandelier and them.  With all the different crystals and wires and chains, keeping a secure grip was difficult while performing the other work -  the reason Remus was levitating it in the first place.  Harry held the screws and Ron used a combination of sticking charms and wand work in place of a Muggle screwdriver as they worked in tandem.  Thinking back, they should have secured things a bit more.  

 

No one was sure what caused it, but the ladder under Harry seemed to sway just enough that Harry lost his footing and slipped down the side.  He felt the slivers of wood dig into his hands as he fell and his foot received a large gash from crashing through the top of a glass topped case sitting in the foyer.  Remus called out to him in panic, but managed to carefully lower the chandelier; Ron bolted down the ladder, jumping from the last three rungs to come to Harry’s aid.

 

Harry tensed as he fell, preparing himself for the certain pain that was about to course through his body. The initial shock of hitting the case hurt a bit, but wasn’t to the degree he expected.  The whole fall felt almost dreamlike.  Landing somewhat awkwardly, he struggled to get his balance, hopped on his other leg and finally pulled his foot free from the carpet of broken glass.  Expecting to see blood or possibly a broken bone as he lifted his denims, his eyes grew wide in amazement as the small red mark on his leg disappeared from view before his eyes.  By then, Ron reached him.

 

“Merlin, Harry, are you alright?  Let me see your leg.”  Ron bent over to examine the injury, but the skin appeared untouched, a slight stain of blood on Harry’s denims.  He looked back up at Harry, their eyes meeting in surprise before Harry turned his palms up and slowly gazed down at them.  Ron followed his eyes and they both watched in amazement as the slivers embedded in his hands simply fell out onto the floor as if being ejected from his pores and his skin was returned to its normal state.

 

Harry and Ron both turned to Remus, considering that perhaps he had performed some wandless healing spell, but Remus was still managing the chandelier.

 

Ron turned back to him in awe.  “Harry.  What is going on?”  

 

Harry shook his head, confused as Ron. Remus finally set the chandelier safely down and approached, extreme concern on his face. 

 

“Let me see,” Remus demanded and pulled Harry’s hands toward him, looking secondly at the undamaged foot and then at both the boys, puzzled and amazed at what he observed.  “You should have a nasty cut after going through all that glass.  You must be really lucky.”

 

“It _was_ cut.  I felt it and…and I saw it…well, for a few seconds I saw it.  But, then it just healed.  Did you use a healing spell?”  Both Remus and Ron shook their head.  Harry picked up his wand and called out _Reparo_ and the glass flew back into place as if Harry was putting together a jigsaw puzzle.

 

They all stared at each other for a few moments, trying to make sense of Harry’s miraculous recovery.   While none of them could explain these odd happenings, Harry assured them that he felt fine and didn’t need any more attention.

 

That night his body ached, not from the fall, but rather a general weariness from a long day of hard work and, after having a quick shower, he fell asleep in record time.

 

  _He stood overlooking a balcony.  It was large and yet small compared to the size of the structure he was in.  A full moon lit the night, but there were torches burning both in his room and on nearby buildings.  He heard a noise and spun around; realizing as he did that his clothing made a funny sound, like metal scraping and tinkling._

_Two men strode into the room, both clad in some type of armor, a combination of metal and leather.  Both had a military air about them, their steps in a cadence.  They didn’t wear shirts, but had scabbards and sheathes for knives and swords wrapped around them.  Both were quite tall and appeared very muscular, hardened and war ready._

_The first asked him if he was safe.  He thought it was an odd question and looked to the second man who said ‘it is our obligation to protect you’ and suddenly they were gone and he was in another room.  A large wooden table filled the room, topped in drawings, plans of some kind but he couldn’t really read them.  The writing appeared foreign._

_A huge sheer drape appeared before him and a strange music filled the air.  It drew him toward the drape and he reached up to swing it to the side.  She was there.  Ginny lay on a long chaise lounge, wrapped in a sheer blue robe with gold necklaces and bracelets adorning her neck and wrists.  She looked lovely, almost mysterious and smiled coyly at him, beckoning him to come toward her._

_His legs were moving, he knew it because she grew closer but then she blurred and he found he was standing in the circle of a huge snake, but this wasn’t just a regular snake.  It was half-man, half-snake, its body thick and scaly, tiny arms sprouting off the sides and a human head with slits for eyes.  It drew back, fangs bared, but held a javelin or spear in its shriveled looking hand.  He heard himself scream for help.  The snake coiled tighter around him, sliding up his body and he glanced to his right to see the two guards standing nearby, their swords drawn._

_A blinding pain shot through his head and he turned to see the snake’s fangs sunk deeply into his thigh.  He could feel the poison coursing through his veins, a burning fire rushing over him.  The guards stood poised to strike, but never moved and he heard the one say again, ‘it is our obligation to protect you’ and he turned back to the great serpent wrapping his hands around its neck, trying to pull it off of him, squeezing with all his might.  Its eyes started to bulge and it made a gurgling sound and suddenly it was…_ GINNY!. 

He bolted awake and found himself sitting astride Ginny, his hands wrapped around her throat, veins blue with the force of his grip.  Ginny’s eyes were open only as slits, her irises rolled up and Harry immediately released her, sucking in a breath as realization hit him.  Her neck was red from his strangle hold and he quickly backed up and checked if she was breathing, his heart now racing faster than he had ever felt it.  The panic and terror rose within him as he spit out a stream of words.  

 

“Oh, Merlin, Ginny.  No, no, no, no.  What did I do?  Oh, Merlin.  Please.  Please, not Ginny.”  Without another thought, he scooped her up into his arms and rumbled down the stairs to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of powder and yelling “St. Mungo’s” as the blue flames erupted around them.

 

*** 

 

Remus awoke to a loud noise from downstairs and jumped up, grabbed his wand and exited into the hallway.  

 

“Remus!”  Molly’s voice burst from below as she stood wrapped in a dressing gown in the foyer. “Have you seen Ginny?”

 

Relaxing his wand, he replied.  “No.  I can check Harry’s room though.”

 

“Would you please?  She’s gone again.”

 

Remus proceeded to the corner bedroom on the third floor fully expecting to find Harry asleep, possibly with Ginny beside him.  He considered knocking, but something told him to just open the door and peak in, sure that he would see them cuddled up together and he hoped, fully clothed.  He eased the door open, his wand tip lighting the way and scanned the bed first.  Empty.  Harry wasn’t in his bed and certainly not Ginny.  He scanned the rest of the room and found it empty, too.

 

Quickly exiting he called down to Molly.  “They’re not here, either of them.  Did you check the kitchen or the garden?”

 

Molly left without saying a word and Remus proceeded down the hall, checking the other bedrooms and the loo, still sure that he would find them somewhere in the house.  After returning to the hallway, Molly appeared below again.  

 

“Nothing, Remus.  Where could they have gone?  You don’t think someone took them, do you?”

 

“I hope not.  I don’t see how, but we better start looking.  I’m going to check the rest of the house.”

 

“I’m going to alert the family.”  Molly disappeared with a pop, leaving Remus to continue his search.  He dressed quickly and apparated to the Burrow about ten minutes later.

 

“Nothing?” he asked as he appeared in the sitting room, Bill and Fred standing before him, shaking their heads.

 

“They’re not at the house.”

 

“Ron, Hermione and George just left to check St. Mungo’s.  Mum and Dad went to find Minerva.  We’re going to pop down to Diagon Alley and Charlie is on his way.”

 

“Good.  I’m going to check in with some Order members and see if anyone has seen or heard anything.”  And with a pop, Remus left.

 

*** 

 

Ron, Hermione and George all split up the moment they reached St. Mungo’s.  Hermione went straight for the information desk in the lobby while Ron and George both rushed to the upper floors and started searching room by room.  Ron kept telling himself that they were safe and sound somewhere, and he wasn’t going to find them here, but he was going to do a thorough search anyway.

 

When Ron reached the fourth floor, he was surprised to see Hermione standing in the hall in front of a door and rushed toward her.  She quickly raised her hands, motioning for him to stop and calm down, her eyes wide.

 

“Ron, we found Ginny.  Now before you see her you have to promise you aren’t going to jump to the wrong conclusions.”

 

Despite Hermione’s obvious hopes that this would instill a bit of reason into him, it only heightened Ron’s fears.  

 

“What are you talking about?  Is she in here?”  He tried to push past Hermione, who attempted to block the door, only being successful for a few seconds.  

 

“Ron, it was an accident!”

 

He burst into the room, the backs of two healers toward him as they stood around his sister and he paused for only a fraction of a second to manage a swallow before moving toward the bed.  One healer turned quickly upon hearing the commotion of his entry.

 

“Sir, only family are allowed…oh.”  Taking in the red-hair, the healer must have put two and two together as he stepped to the side allowing Ron to approach the bed.  What he saw forced tears to form in his eyes as he reached out to take her hand.  Ginny lay very still on the bed, her neck covered in a series of red and now turning-purple bruises.

 

“What happened?” he choked out as a healer continued to monitor her pulse and another ran a wand over her head.

 

Hermione’s voice cut through the room.  “Ron, Harry didn’t mean to.  He was dreaming and didn’t know what he was doing.”

 

The tears transformed to rage as his fists clenched at his sides.  Hermione must have noticed for she continued her pleading.  “He brought her here as soon as he realized what happened.”  However, her pleas fell on deaf ears as Ron pushed past her.  

 

“Where is he?  HARRY POTTER!”

 

Ron’s long strides carried him quickly to the end of the hall where George sat next to a hunched over figure holding his raven covered head in his hands.  George rested a hand on his shoulder in an apparently comforting gesture.  The image of Ginny in that bed drove Ron to temporary insanity as he marched up to Harry.  Reaching down, he fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him swiftly out of his chair.  Somewhere in the recesses of his mind Ron knew that George was talking to him, along with Hermione, both telling him to stop, but before he knew what he was doing Harry’s body slammed against the wall and Ron’s fist drew back.

 

Maybe it was the burst of adrenaline, or just his anger-filled imagination, but Harry moved far too easily.  Ron expected him to fight back or to pull away at the very least.  But Harry’s body swung as if it were a giant rag doll and the sound of his head knocking into the wall brought Ron out of his rage filled trance for a moment.  Harry’s eyes appeared glazed and red-rimmed, the same color as his face streaked in tears.  As if someone had just notched up the volume, Ron’s hearing became acutely aware of Harry’s sobbing, the choked gasp as he inhaled.  

 

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  His chest heaved and shoulders shook as he sobbed again and his head fell forward, not an ounce of fight in him.

 

Ron felt a hand grip his drawn forearm.  “Ron.  Ron!  Stop it!”  George’s voice seemed much louder now as did Hermione’s behind him.  

 

“Please Ron, don’t hurt him.  It was an accident.”  

 

Ron felt the anger rush out of him, mimicking the air in his lungs as he stared back at his best mate - now awash in anguish, looking crumpled and defeated.  Ron glanced down, shocked to see his own hand pressed into Harry’s chest, his shirt clutched in Ron’s fierce grip.

 

“Bloody Hell.”  He released him as if burned and stepping back from the flames of fury that had held him in its grip.  Harry’s body slumped and slid down the wall.  The pendulum of emotions swung and Ron caught him, his love for Harry taking over the rage as he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in for a comforting hug.  “I’m sorry, mate.”

 

He could hear Hermione and George both letting out a very tense breath and then George told them he was going back to notify the family.  Ron helped Harry back to his chair.

 

“What happened?” Ron asked.

 

“I-I was dreaming.  This huge snake.  It-it bit me, and…and I was f-fighting it.”  

 

Harry dragged the back of his sleeve over his face as Hermione continued.  “He had a nightmare, similar to the ones he told Bill about and in it, this snake was attacking him and he tried to strangle it, not knowing that Ginny had come over to the house concerned about him and was trying to help him.”

 

Harry appeared inconsolable and began to rant and sniffle.  “You need to keep me away from your family.  First your Dad and now this!  I can’t stand it!”  He wrapped his intertwined fingers around the nape of his neck and curled in on himself, appearing very small.

 

“Harry, it was an accident.  You said yourself, it was just a dream.  This wasn’t Voldemort in your head.  You didn’t mean to do it.”  Hermione pressed on, seemingly unwilling to give up the argument until she was sure he was convinced.  Harry rocked back up, shook his head with eyes clenched shut and vaguely wiped his face against the back of his hand before returning to his hunched position.

 

Seconds later, Molly, Arthur and the rest of the family arrived.  Remus left to call off the search and tell the Order to stand down, but Tonks stayed.

 

“Where is she?  What happened?”  Molly was in a right state, marching down the hallway, asking questions of anyone she saw. 

 

Ron shot George a look, relaying that he should go along and explain, which he did, leaving the rest of the family in the waiting area.

 

When dawn arrived, the waiting room was a mass of red-haired occupants, all either sleeping, curled up in chairs or staring out into space.  Harry had a sort of numb, blank look, sitting slumped in a chair.  The healer walked in, looking confused about whom to address first when Harry quickly stood up, alerting everyone else of the healer’s presence.

 

“Miss Weasley’s family, I presume?”

 

“How is she?”  Harry spoke first as everyone sat up, ready for any news they could get.

 

“She’s awake.  She really can’t talk at this point.  Her larynx received a serious contusion and she won’t be able to eat anything for several days, but her airway appears stable and I think she’s going to recover.  We’ll need to keep her for a while.”

 

A collective sigh resounded in the room as the healer continued.  “Mr. Potter.  I’m really sorry to have to do this, but I’m obligated to report this as a case of assault.”  

 

Ron came to his defense immediately, rising as if ready to fight.  “What?”

 

However, Tonks took the reigns and stepped between them.  “I’m an Auror.  I’ll handle this.”  

 

“Tonks, you can’t…” Ron interrupted, but was quickly waved back to his seat.

 

“Ron, I will handle this.  You sit down.  Now.”  Her voice was stern, much more so than anyone had ever heard before.

 

She stepped up to Harry and took his arm, gently pulling him toward Ginny’s room and motioned for the Healer to follow.  “You said she can’t speak, but can she still communicate with us?”

 

“Yes, she can nod slightly or write her response.”

 

Molly started toward them, but Tonks raised her hand to stop her, returning her conversation to the healer.

 

“Good.  I want you to come along as a witness.  Come on Harry.”  Molly drew in another breath to press her point again, but Tonks cut her off.  “Molly, we’ll be back in just a minute and then you can see her.”  Tonks continued moving them down the hall, but as they reached Ginny’s room, Harry came to a halt as terror filled his heart with what he was about to see. 

 

“Harry, it’s going to be alright.  Come on.”  

 

The healer walked in and held the door open for them, enough so that Harry could see Ginny’s small body lying under a white blanket, her red hair splayed out on the pillow.  Tonks nudged him and he moved into the room, slowly approaching the bed.

 

“Ms. Weasley,” the healer circled to the other side of the bed, “we need you to answer some questions for the Aurors.  Don’t try to speak.  Just nod or if that’s too painful you can write your answer.”  _Painful_.  Just hearing the word made Harry cringe.  He tentatively approached the side of her bed, finally viewing the full extent of his strength displayed on her tiny white neck.  The bruises made his stomach turn and he closed his eyes in shame.

 

The touch of a soft hand on his arm brought him back and he opened his eyes to meet Ginny’s soft brown ones, a small smile on her face.  _How could she be smiling at me after what I did to her?_   He wanted to burst out in tears again and drop to his knees to beg for her forgiveness, but Tonks cut in before he could act on the impulse.

 

“Ms. Weasley, Healer Williams is obliged to contact the Aurors when he comes across any signs of assault or abuse.  So, I am here to ask you if you wish to press charges against Mr. Potter.”

 

Harry’s eyes locked with Ginny’s as another tear ran down his cheek.  Her hand squeezed his arm, pulling him closer to the side of the bed.  After witnessing his own strength on her neck, he hesitated touching her.  However, the urge to comfort her overtook him and he gently ran a hand over her forehead, sliding his hip up onto the edge of the bed.

 

“Ms. Weasley.  Do you wish to press charges for Assault against Harry Potter?”

 

Ginny shook her head in the negative and Tonks looked at Healer Williams.  “Are you satisfied with her response that she does not wish to press charges?”

 

He squinted for a moment as if considering his options.  “Miss Weasley.  Can you please write it down?”  The healer handed her a self-inking quill and a piece of parchment.  She scribbled much more than a simple ‘no’ and held it up to Harry whose eyes had never left her face until confronted with the note.

  _Harry, please don’t blame yourself.  I forgive you.  It was accident.  Stay with me._ Then below it in capital letters it said: _I DO NOT WISH TO PRESS CHARGES!_

 

Tonks showed the paper to the healer who nodded his agreement.  Tonks lay a hand on her leg.  

 

“Ginny, I’ve got to get back to work, but the rest of your family is waiting.  I hope you feel better soon.” 

 

Tonks glanced at Harry and gave a half-tilted smile before she turned to leave, Harry still gently caressing Ginny’s face as the door swung shut.

 

It took another hour plus before all of the family were allowed to see her, having to take turns in groups of two, being as Harry refused to leave her side.  Ron and Hermione sat in the waiting area while George and Bill went in to see Ginny, the rest of the family having gone home to get some rest.  Hermione wanted to make sure that Harry was taken care of and Ron, feeling guilty of his earlier tirade, was inclined to agree with her.  Ron leaned back, his head resting against the wall, eyes closed when the chair beside him scraped the floor and he saw a retreating Hermione run down the hall.

 

Bolting upright, he watched her scurry away until she disappeared through a door on the left.  Following her, he stopped, embarrassed to find himself in front of the ladies loo and retreated to a more appropriate distance.  It was then that he heard the sound of someone heaving and he eased back closed to the door.  Hearing it again, he pressed the door open just a crack.

 

“Hermione?  Are you alright?”

 

Again, the sound of her stomach turning over echoed through the room and Ron pushed the door open just a bit more, checking if anyone else was in the room.

 

“Hello?  Is anyone in here?  Hermione?”  Cautiously, he entered and peered around the wall, ducking down to see if there were any legs visible below the doors as he moved closer to the retching noise in the third stall.  Seeing it all clear, Ron approached the stall, pushed the door to the side and gently kneeled to scoop up her hair, some of which was already damp.  As he drew back several strands, she heaved once more, although nothing came up this time.  Her shaky hand searched blindly, finally pulling the handle on the toilet.  Slowly she backed away, Ron still holding her brown waves with one hand as he placed another under her left arm to help her up.

 

“What’s the matter?  Got some bad food in you?  This hospital stuff is pure shite, huh?”  He followed, still holding her as she stumbled to the sink, splashed some cold water on her face and finally stood up, holding a hand to her stomach.  

 

“Ron, what are you doing in the ladies lounge?”

 

“It’s alright.  No one else is in here.”

 

“Oh, Merlin.  I feel so nauseated all of a sudden.  It just hit me.”

 “Maybe you have the stomach flu or something.”  He followed her as she shuffled toward the exit.  “You should have Mum make you some of her special tea.  It will probably take care of it in no time.”  He pulled the door open for her, his hand gently ghosting her lower back as they walked out into the hall.

“Better?” he asked as she puffed out a deep breath, apparently thinking it had passed.  But, for the second time that day he found himself catching a slumping body.   Her legs seemed to give out and she swayed toward him. 

 

“Now what?” Ron muttered, catching her before she hit the floor.  “Hermione?”  He gently patted her face, trying to get her to snap out of it, but she remained unresponsive.  Now a bit worried, Ron slipped a hand beneath her knees and lifted her into his chest spotting a uniformed person just a few doors down to his left.  “I need some help here.”  

 

The healer’s assistant escorted him into a nearby room, just five or six down the hall from Ginny’s and he carefully laid Hermione on the cushioned exam table.  She started to stir as Ron explained the situation to the assistant.

 

“Are you family?”  Ron bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to roar out his annoyance at hearing that question again.  He knew what was coming next and he was rather forceful in his response.

 

“No, but I don’t want to leave her.  She’s with me.  Do you understand?”

 

“Ron?”  Hermione reached out, grasping his arm.  “What happened?”  She seemed alert enough, but when she tried to sit up, her eyes rolled again and she crashed back down onto the pillow.

 

“I’m going to get a healer.  Just keep her lying down.”  The man departed quickly, allowing Ron to remain with her.

 

“Hermione, are you trying to kill me?  First Ginny, then Harry, now you.”  He didn’t say this to be mean, but more to himself to abate the tension coursing through him.  However, he soon realized that he should have kept his mouth shut as Hermione started to cry, immediately dropping her grip on his hand.

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it that way.”  He reached over, gently running the back of his hand over her cheek.  “I just meant that it’s been a very long day and it’s barely mid morning.  Please don’t cry.  Please?”

 

A few minutes later, the assistant returned with another healer in tow.  “Good morning!”  She spoke in a smooth pleasant voice, a bright smile on her face and appeared quite young to boot.  “I’m Healer Smythwick.  What seems to be the problem today?”

 

Hermione spoke, still lying flat on her back.  “I think it must be a stomach virus or something.  I’m very nauseated and dizzy.”

 

“Hmm.  Have you eaten anything different lately?”  She started running her wand over Hermione who shook her head in denial.   First over her head, she hovered the wand all the way to her feet and then back up, finally settling on her stomach.  “Yes, I see.”  She turned and smiled at Ron.  “And you are?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, my name is Ron Weasley.  This is Hermione Granger.”

 

“Your girlfriend?”

 

Ron looked at Hermione and then glanced back up, nodding in affirmation.  The healer’s gaze turned to the firm grip that Hermione had on Ron’s forearm and seemed to consider her words for a moment before she spoke.

 

“Ms. Granger.  Are you late?”

 

Ron looked at his watch briefly, wondering what she meant by late.  Was she expected somewhere that morning?

 

“Um…a bit.  Why?  Am I…?”

 

The healer just nodded, leaving Ron frowning in confusion and looking from face to face for an explanation.

 

“I take it this wasn’t planned.”

 

“No.”  Hermione started to cry again and Ron finally found his voice. 

 

 “What’s going on?  What’s not planned and what is she late for?”

 

The healer exchanged a look with Hermione who seemed to indicate that she wanted some alone time because the Healer motioned for the assistant to leave and followed behind him.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  

 

Hermione wiped her eyes as Ron looked puzzled.  “Hermione, what’s going on?”

 

“Ron, I’m pregnant.”

 

Ron thanked his heritage for the abundance of freckles across his cheeks, for surely they were the only thing of color on him at the moment.  The word ‘pregnant’ loomed over him like a heavy curtain about to fall and smother him, leaving him unable to breath, let alone speak.  His mind flashed back to their encounter on the rug in Hermione’s livingroom – that glorious, wonderful night, but he struggled to remember if they had used the charm.  Hermione studied him, obviously trying to gauge his reaction.  She looked paralyzed with fear and Ron suspected that she thought he was going to bolt from the room, leaving her alone to deal with this.  His lack of voice must have confirmed her suspicions and she teared up again, rolling away from him and curling into a little ball.

 

It took a moment for Ron to gather his thoughts, but as she turned from him, the pink in his cheeks returned, along with a huge smile.  

 

_She’s pregnant.  Hermione’s going to have a baby.  A baby!  My baby!  My baby?  Yes, of course it’s my baby!  Hermione’s going to have my baby!_  

 

The thoughts finally came out of his mouth.  “I’m going to be a Daddy,” he mumbled at first and then said it again, louder.  This drew Hermione’s attention back toward him and he reached down to hold her face in his hands and kissed her excitedly.  “Hermione, you’re going to be a Mummy!”

 

The smile on his face and energy in his expression must have given her hope because a small smile broke across her lips.  As if coming out of a dream, Ron finally noticed her distress and dropped his smile, replacing it with a look of warmth and love as he took her hand again.  “Oh, love.  It’s alright.  It’s more than alright.  This is wonderful news.  Are you upset?”

 

The look on her face was the equivalent of Ron getting knocked over the head with a club and he closed his eyes for a moment, a swirl of thoughts rushing through him.

 

_Well, of course she’s upset you dolt.  She’s eighteen years old, not married, just starting a career and you’ve gone and knocked her up.  Oh, Merlin.  I’m so dead.  Mum is going to murder me.  What are we going to do?  Maybe we should leave the country, go into hiding on some secluded island and have the baby there.  Oh no.  What if Hermione doesn’t want the baby?_ The vision of his son sitting in an orphanage blossomed in his head, then visions of him raised by another family, each one worse than the last _.  What if she wants to…_   

 

“Oh, Ron.  What am I going to do?  You can’t tell anyone.  Not my parents and certainly not yours.  Promise me you won’t tell.”

 

“Hermione, relax.  Look, we’re going to have to tell someone.”

 

“No. No.  Please, they won’t understand.  They’ll think I’m a…a…scarlet woman!” and the tears returned.  Ron shushed her, continuing to provide comfort in any manner he could think of, until finally he decided to ask the burning question.

 

“Hermione.  D-do you want to keep the baby?”  She paused, looking deeply into his eyes, probably hoping to ascertain his feelings on the same subject before she spoke.  Ron stared back with an unbearable mixture of excitement and doubt.

 

“I’m sorry, Ron.  I never should have let this happen.  I’ll take care of it and no one will have to know.”

 

“What are you talking about, love?  I’m in this with you.  This is my baby, too.  I did participate in the process so, this is not your fault or my fault, but now it’s our responsibility to do the right thing.”

 

“I know, but I don’t want to.”  Her words were confusing as Ron tried to comprehend her meaning.  “I promise I won’t ask you for anything.  We can move and never see you again.  I don’t want this to tarnish your career or…”

 

“Hermione.  Stop.  What are you going on about?”

 

He barely understood her reply as she wailed over it.  “I want to keep the baby!”

 

Dumbfounded by her statement, he mentally reviewed the previous three minutes of conversation to try and sort out what just transpired when the pieces finally fell into place. 

 

 “Oh, Merlin, of course we’re going to keep the baby.  Did you think I didn’t want it?  Heavens, no!  I love you and I love this baby.  It’s part of you and me.  I don’t want you to leave.  I want to be by your side the whole time.  We’ll furnish your flat and I’ll get a good job.  Everything will work out fine.”

She slowly calmed during his speech.  Ron pulled a washcloth off the shelf and dampened it in the sink, bringing it back to wipe her face as he scooted up onto the table with her.  With great tenderness, he gave her a gentle kiss and then withdrew, placing his hand lightly on her stomach, feeling the need to protect the tiny life within her.  Just then, the healer returned, asking Hermione if she had any questions, told her to get lots of rest, eat right and to make an appointment to see the specialist in a week.  She took a few minutes to gather herself, again making Ron promise not to say anything and the two of them left the room, checking on Ginny one more time before returning to Hermione’s flat.  Ron settled her in to her bed and then headed back to the Burrow to check on Harry at Hermione’s insistence.


	22. Chapter 22 - Emotions Explored

  
Author's notes: Thanks so much to Indie for her wonderful beta work!  


* * *

 

The next two days passed in a blur for Harry and Ron with each making constant visits to Ginny and Hermione.  Harry wasn’t sure why, but Ron seemed very concerned about Hermione and he did little but eat, sleep, visit hospitals and either repeat comforting words to him or scurry off to Hermione’s flat.  Harry’s nerves were already on edge and having Ron appear so flustered did little to help.  Still, his main concern was for Ginny as he kept an almost constant vigil in or near her hospital room.  He battled with himself over the desire to stay with her when he feared that he might fall asleep and somehow hurt her again.   For two nights he slept in the waiting area, waking to a sore neck, but thankful she was safe.

 

Bill took much more interest in Harry’s dreams after what happened and had him write it down in detail.  No amount of previous Weasley family affection could mask the sense of frustration spewing off of Bill’s every move.  Harry couldn’t help but wince at each of Bill’s movements – the simple act of reaching for a new piece of parchment caused Harry to jerk.  His eyes skirted the edge of the table more than once, fully expecting Ginny’s much older and much larger brother to pummel him at any instant.  The image of Ginny in that hospital bed kept flashing back, causing him to pause and regroup his thoughts as he warily wrote down the details with a knotted stomach.  Bill immediately asked for Hermione to help him analyze it, but Ron explained that she was feeling under the weather and would be in bed for a day or two.

 

Harry returned to Ginny’s side every opportunity he had, the guilt overwhelming him each time he saw the bruises on her neck.  He avoided Molly at every turn unable to stand the look of loathing that he was sure would be on her face.  Ginny’s whispered voice finally returned and after the healers were sure that her airway was safe and that she could eat, they allowed her to go home.  Only due to Ron’s insistence did Harry come back to the Burrow with Ginny.

 

Molly escorted Ginny to her room while Harry and Ron sat in the parlor.  Ron suggested a game of chess, if nothing but to ease the tension that had been looming over the house for the past several days, but Harry excused himself, saying he would be back shortly and headed toward the kitchen.

 

Mr. Weasley was having a cup of tea at the kitchen table and looking through the morning post when Harry walked in.  He stopped in the doorway, not sure if he should go any further without permission.

 

“Mr. Weasley?  May I speak to you, sir?”  

 

“Harry.  Why, of course.  Please, have a seat.”

 

Harry ventured in, his stomach tightening as he slid onto the bench opposite this man whom he respected and loved.  Arthur’s expression was calm, displaying no sign of malice or disappointment toward Harry.

 

“I just wanted you to know how sorry I am and…and that I would never intentionally hurt Ginny.”  His head hung before him.

 

Arthur reached out to him, a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “Oh, son, we know that.  This was an accident, pure and simple.”

 

Harry nodded as if trying to compose himself.  “Yes, sir.  Still, I feel terrible about it.”

 

“I would like to know the whole story.  What exactly happened?”

 

Harry felt a pang of guilt hit him square in the chest.  All of his impure thoughts of Ginny, of holding her, kissing her, they all seemed very inappropriate at the moment – now that he was sitting opposite her father.  Still, he knew he had to come clean – had to explain the truth behind the situation.

 

“Well, you see, sir.  Ginny and I have become really close and well…I was having these nightmares and…well… she was concerned so she snuck over to my room at night to help me.”

 

Arthur’s eyebrow shot up at this revelation and Harry noticed his accusatory look that clearly stated the obvious question.  “Oh, no!  Sir, I don’t mean like that.  We haven’t...I mean, I never touched her.  Well, I mean…um…not that way.  She just climbed into bed…” more furrowed brows followed, “oh, shite…sorry, um…I mean on top of the covers and we were fully dressed, and well, it made my nightmares stop…but I swear we didn’t do anything else!”

 

Harry almost cringed at hearing his own words.  He might as well run off and sign up for the priesthood because after that statement he was sure that he’d never get near Ginny again.  Arthur had a distinctly serious look on his face as he spoke.  

 

“I see.  Well, be that as it may, she’s my sixteen year old daughter and I don’t think she should be sneaking out of my house at night and climbing into bed with a seventeen year old boy, even if it is you, Harry.”  Harry nodded furiously, hoping that by agreeing wholeheartedly, he might live to see another day.  “However, I believe your intentions are good and I appreciate your honesty with me.”

 

“Yes, sir.  I just…well, I just wanted you to know that I hadn’t taken advantage of her or anything, and well…I wanted to know if I had your permission to sleep on the couch here tonight.”

 

Arthur’s look remained serious, but the tip of his head indicated a degree of concern not only for his daughter, but for the young man across from him.  “Of course you can stay here, son.  You don’t have to take the couch.  Just take your regular spot in Ron’s room.”

 

Harry made a small move as if to exit, but Arthur stopped him.  “Thank you for telling me all this.  I knew that Ginny felt close to you and I’m not blind or deaf so, I have witnessed the way you two have been acting around each other.”

 

Harry wasn’t sure why he even opened his mouth, but the words came out at the end of a large gulp.  “I-I love her, sir.”  It took a second for the reality of that statement to sink in.  He hadn’t really known for sure until that very moment that he truly did love her.  Still, admitting that to her father in the family kitchen probably wasn’t the wisest choice as he examined Arthur’s somewhat leery expression.  A battle raged in Harry’s mind on the value of shutting his mouth at that very moment or risking extinction by continuing to spill his feelings.  Perhaps it was Arthur’s slightly softened smile that urged him on.

 

“She means so much to me and this whole incident is…eating me up inside.  I can’t sleep.  I can’t eat.”  His eyes glazed over even as he shuttered with the thought of crying in front of Ginny’s father.  “I can’t even look at Mrs. Weasley.”

 

Truthfully, that one of the biggest issues, the one that tormented him more than most.  How could Ginny’s mother ever forgive him for this?  

 

“Can you please tell her how sorry I am?”  He choked out that last statement, knowing the hurt he had caused the only woman who ever treated him as a son.  Arthur’s gaze turned up and over Harry’s shoulder.  By the silence in the room, Harry understood that the woman he had just spoken of was clearly standing behind him.

 

Harry quickly looked down at the floor and stood up.  “Thank you, Mr. Weasley.”  He promptly moved toward the back of the house, hoping to make an exit through the kitchen, unable to look behind him.

 

“Harry James Potter.”  Molly’s voice was firm.  “You come back here this instant.”  A chill trickled down his spine, seemingly immobilizing him just steps away from the back door.  The sound of a masculine throat clearing itself made him realize that another Weasley sibling had joined them.  He prayed it was Ron or maybe George.

 

Feeling quite deserving of the tongue lashing he was about to receive, he turned and walked toward Mrs. Weasley, never lifting his eyes.  His body tensed, ready for the verbal or possible physical assault he was about to endure.  He deserved anything she could send his way.  In fact, he almost hoped he’d receive a nice large bruise, something he could see in the mirror and somehow recognize as a sign of his penance.  He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to see it – just as he couldn’t fight back when Ron had lifted him out of the chair at the hospital.  

 

However, what he felt, instead, was a strong pair of arms wrap themselves around him and he soon realized it was the warm, familiar embrace of the only woman for whom he ever felt maternal affection.  She reached around, grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at her and as soon as he did, the tears began again and he wrapped his arms around her, mumbling an apology over and over into her shoulder as she rubbed his back and patted him as a mother comforts a baby.  They stood like that for quite a while.  Ron and Arthur quietly excused themselves to the parlor.

 

*** 

 

Early the next morning, after Ron had checked in on Hermione, helping her through the latest round of morning sickness, he headed back to the Burrow, determined to tell Harry the news.

 

A quick search of the house found Harry still in bed, but not asleep.  As Ron walked in to the room they shared, he tossed a silencing charm on the door and sat down on the side of his bed.

 

Harry looked over, a bit curious about the silencing spell.  “What’s up?”

 

“Harry, I need to tell you something.  I need your help, but you have to keep this quiet.”

 

“Keep what quiet?”  Harry was still reclining, propped up on his elbows as he listened.

 

Ron folded his hands in front of him and looked at the floor, trying to formulate the next sentence.  “I know that you know how I feel about Hermione.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, we’ve become really close this past year…um…well, we’ve become _really_ close, if you know what I mean.”

 

Harry’s eyes grew wide and he sat up.  “You mean, you two have…” his hand gestured on the sentence.

 

“Yeah.  We did.  More than once.  Anyway, look…this is hard enough to say so, I’m just going to get it out quickly….Hermione is pregnant.”

 

Ron soon discovered there wasn’t any need for the silencing charm based on the fact that he couldn’t even hear Harry breathe.  They just looked at each other until Harry finally let out a sigh in the form of a low whistle.  Harry stood up and started walking around, running a hand through his unruly mop.  

 

“Geez, Ron.  I don’t know what to say.  ‘Congratulations’ or ‘do you want me to give your eulogy at the funeral?’”

 

Ron was nodding in agreement and blowing out a breath.  “Yeah, I know.  Look, we haven’t told anyone else.  Hermione made me swear we wouldn’t tell her parents or mine.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m not sure.  We’re keeping the baby, though.”  Ron stood up and walked over to Harry, placing his hands on his shoulders.  “Look, I need your help.  She’s been sick every morning and I just can’t be there to look in on her all the time and still keep working.”

 

“Well, I’d be glad to check on her.  You know how I feel about her.  She’s like my sister.”

 

Ron nodded and continued, “There’s one more thing.  Could you help me shop for a ring?”

 

“A what?”

 

Ron took a step back.  “Well, you don’t suppose I’m going to just abandon her and the baby, do you?  I want to propose and I need a ring.”

 

“Ron, I don’t know if you’re going to live long enough to marry her.  When your Mum finds out, well, I don’t want to be around.”

 

“I know, I know.  Look, just help me.  Please?  I’ll handle Mum and Dad when the time is right.”

 

Harry nodded his agreement.

 

“Good.  I have to go into the shop for about six hours today.  Can you make sure she eats something good…not that she might chuck it all back up, but still…can you just keep her company for a little while until I can get back?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Harry went over to check on Hermione as requested, finding her sitting on the sofa, sipping some tea and reading a book.  She never mentioned her pregnancy and Harry never asked.  He just offered to make them lunch and they sat and talked for a little while before Hermione said she was really tired and needed a nap.

 

*** 

 

That night when Ron finished work, he Apparated directly to Hermione’s flat, but didn’t see her anywhere in the living area or kitchen.

 

“Hermione!”  He called out, walking down the narrow hallway that was lined with various photos of her friends and family.  He knocked gingerly on the bedroom door, hoping he wasn’t disturbing her.  She had been very tired and sleeping a lot for the past several days.

 

“Hermione.”  He spoke softly and gently turned the knob on the door. Peaking in, he looked to her bed and saw that it was empty, but the sheets were tangled up as if she had been in it not long ago.  Hermione was the type that always made up the bed as soon as she rose.  It was then that he heard the shower running.

 

He relaxed and decided to just sit down and wait for her.  Normally, he would have left the room and settled down on Hermione’s new couch, but something was different now.  The fact that she was carrying his baby, it made him feel like he had earned some more privileges, such as being allowed in her bedroom - being allowed _anywhere_ closer to her.  It was old news that Ron Weasley had a protective streak in him when it came to Hermione Granger, but he felt even more so with his impending fatherhood.  So, with this in mind, he decided to sit down in the big reading chair in her room and wait, pulling out a new book of poetry that he had found during a side trip to Flourish and Blotts.

 

He fully expected to hear the water turn off and see her walk out within a few minutes, but just moments later he heard something else.  It sounded like a whimper and he rose to investigate.  Seems like, once again, he found himself in the awkward situation of entering a woman’s bathroom.  Still, he had to be sure she was alright.  Slowly cracking the door to the bathroom open, the whimper became clearer.

 

As he approached the shower, he called to her.  “Hermione?  Are you alright?”  He paused and leaned against the wall, just out of eyesight, still trying to keep a modicum of decorum.

 

She didn’t answer, but he continued to hear soft sobs and he decided to take just a little peak into the shower, hooking his finger around the curtain.  What he saw made his heart pause.

 

Hermione sat on the floor of the shower stall, holding her knees to her chest and crying.  He immediately knelt down, sliding the curtain a few inches to the side.

 

“Hermione.  Oh, Merlin.”  He noticed she was shivering and it was then he discovered the water was ice cold.  Spinning the knob around, he turned off the shower and hastily grabbed a towel off the nearby rack.  “You’re freezing!  Hermione, come on.”  

 

Wrapping the towel around her shoulders, he attempted to coax her to stand, but she just kept holding onto her knees and rocking.  Ron knew this cold couldn’t be good for her or the baby.  He decided to get her out on his own. He slid his arm under her legs and pulled her close to him as he stood.  The chilly water soaked through his shirt as her trembling arms snaked around his neck  - her sobs continuing into his shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sor-r-ry!”

 

Her skin felt cold against him and he whisked her into the bedroom, scanning the room for her bathrobe, finding it on a hook by the door.  He tried to lay her on the bed, but her arms remained wrapped around his neck and he had to sit with her and carefully pry her fingers loose.  He quickly threw up a warming charm and took the towel and started drying her off.

 

“Mione, you didn’t do anything wrong.  Please don’t apologize.  Look, I know this is a shock and well, I’m not saying that I know how you feel, because obviously I can’t, but this isn’t your fault.  I mean, we did take precautions, so, maybe this was just fate or destiny or something.”

 

“I’ve ruined everything!” She kept sobbing as Ron wrapped the towel around her hair and pulled the blanket up over her.  “I’m the responsible one, I wasn’t supposed to let this happen.  I’ll have to put my career on hold, I can’t work when I spend four hours a day bent over the toilet!  I’ve ruined my reputation, and now you’ll be…you’ll be…”

 

“I’ll be what, luv?”  Ron was stroking her clammy cheek with his fingers.  “Hermione, I don’t understand why you are so upset when this is such happy news.  Yes, it was unexpected and yes, it will change us, but I don’t mind.”

 

“Don’t mind!  Ron, I’m an eighteen year old unwed mother.  Do you know what that means?”

 

“Yes.  Actually, I’ve done a lot of thinking about that.  Hermione, I’m not going to let this baby grow up without a father.  I won’t leave you alone in this.  I love you, Hermione.  Look, I promise I’ll get you a proper ring and all and well…I know this isn’t the most romantic setting, but will you marry me?”

 

*** 

 

The next day was Sunday, Mr. Weasley was off from work and Bill had pulled him into the research on the curse.  They were talking in the kitchen as Harry walked in.  The conversation came to a halt as soon as he entered the room, something that Harry took notice of immediately.

 

“Sorry.  Am I interrupting something?”

 

The two Weasleys looked at one another and then Bill turned back.  “No.  Come on in, Harry.  In fact, we were just discussing something that involves you.”

 

“Doesn’t everything involve me somehow?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement or fact, or perhaps a dreaded acknowledgement of his lot in life.

 

“Not always, but it does in this case.”  Harry slid in next to Mr. Weasley, feeling a bit safer next to him as opposed to Bill.  He hadn’t spoken about the accident with the oldest brother since writing down the dream and he wasn’t sure how he would react, specially since they had just had another conversation about him and Ginny and now he knew that Ginny was in Harry’s bed on at least one occasion.

 

Bill cleared his throat and then continued.  “So, I’ve been going over your dream and comparing it to the story and to what I’ve figured out so far from these scrolls that Ron brought back in the spring.  I think that there’s a connection between that chest that you opened and your dreams.”

 

“Wh-what kind of connection?”

 

“You didn’t have any bad dreams until after it was opened, right?”

 

Harry thought back quickly to see if he could recall any nightmares prior to that night.  “Yeah, I mean not recently.”

 

“You told me that twice in your dream, these guards said something about ‘fulfilling an obligation’ and Remus told me that you used similar words when you opened that chest.”

 

“I really don’t remember what we were talking about right before it opened.  I think we were talking about the house.”

 

Bill shuffled some papers and picked up a small scrap of parchment with some scribbled notes.  “And Remus said he felt that he was obligated, note the use of that word, to finish Sirius’ work on the house and then he said that you told him that because it was your house that you released him of his obligation.  Is that what you said, Harry?”

 

“I guess.”  Harry shrugged.  “Something like that.”

 

“Well, I think that phrase is what unlocked the chest.”

 

“Great,” Harry’s shoulders slumped.  “So, now I’ve re-awakened some ancient curse.”

 

Mr. Weasley finally cut in, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “Harry, it’s possible you re-awakened it, but it’s also possible that you took the first step in ending it.  Curses are tricky.  That type of magic has been around for hundreds or maybe thousands of years and the types of magic used centuries ago have evolved quite a bit.  We just don’t know yet.  You see, unlike today where you can reverse a spell, years ago many curses were made in stages or steps and reversing them also occurred in stages.  So, it’s possible that whatever this curse was, that it didn’t happen all at once.  Most likely, the man receiving the curse noticed small changes in himself over the course of days or possibly weeks until he felt the full effects of the damage, whatever that was.  So, it could be that you reversed the first portion of it and, with time, you could start reversing the rest of it.”

 

“So, you really think that I am the one that is cursed?  This is great.  Just great.  I really need to have this hanging over my head.”  His head slumped down onto the table.

 

Arthur rested a hand on Harry’s forearm.  “It’s quite possible, but it also looks like reversing this could give you other powers or strengths that you don’t have now.  Powers that have been dormant due to this curse.”

  

“Harry.”  Bill interrupted.  “Remember, in ancient times a curse could only be issued from a priest or priestess who believed that the person being cursed was acting contrary to their beliefs.  You don’t see just any witch or wizard going around saying ‘I curse you.’  It’s a specific brand of ancient magic, typically performed by a select group of people.  That’s not to say that some git doesn’t attempt it now and then, but generally it’s a more revered, more practiced artform within magical society.  Now, according to these scrolls, the Prince in this story was working against some evil force and the priest for this evil person or persons cursed the prince, which is a whole lot more than just calling out a spell.”

 

“I know the difference between a curse and a spell, Bill.”  Harry raised an eyebrow as if insulted, but allowed him to go on.

 

“Well, then you know that a curse is a long spell, almost a story, or a forecasting of things or events that will happen in order to assure the end result.  So, when lifting a curse, many of those same events will replay themselves in the same order, in effect altering the story behind the curse.  The actual text of the curse was rarely written or recorded so, we wouldn’t know exactly what happened to the prince.  Instead the people witnessing the results of the curse would often write stories or phrases that depicted what they saw or felt.”  Harry still looked confused and Bill looked around, trying to think of a better way to explain it.

 

“Let’s say that you were cursed by a priest who proclaimed ‘You will lose all your magic.’  So, over the course of the next few days or weeks, you start to lose the ability to do things and as a result, let’s say you drop a trunk you were levitating and then eventually, you are killed because you can’t put up a shield.  Well, the village elder sees the incident and writes down that there was a great catastrophe with a trunk and a broken shield.”

 

Now Harry’s eyes had lit up and he seemed to understand the process Bill was laying before him.  “So, we have to, basically, figure out the order of events in this story and see if they begin to reverse themselves?”

 

“Not really reverse themselves, but replay themselves and at the same time, the effects of the curse will reverse!  That’s why we have to decrypt these scrolls.”  Bill was shaking his head, still reading.  “I really could use Hermione’s help on this.  Is she still sick?”

 

Arthur made to stand.  “Maybe I should send Molly over to her flat and she could fix her up…”

 

Harry threw up a hand.  “No!  No.  That won’t be necessary, Mr. Weasley.  Hermione was feeling much better this morning when I saw her.  I think she’ll be back to work tomorrow, but she thought it best to take it easy for one more day.”

 

Mr. Weasley nodded and again noticed that Bill and his father were looking at each other, somehow exchanging their thoughts on some decision.  Harry’s eyes shifted from one to the other and he got the urge to leave, but before he could, he felt Mr. Weasley’s hand tighten on his shoulder once more as he spoke.

 

“Harry.  There’s something else we’d like to discuss with you.”  For some reason, Harry kept his eyes fixed firmly on Bill, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

 

“We believe that until you get past these nightmares, it’s probably best if you don’t spend any time alone with Ginny.”

 

“Oh, um…believe me, I agree.  I mean, I still want to see her, but I don’t want to hurt her again.  I haven’t had a chance to speak to her about this yet, though.  I was kind of hoping that she’d be feeling well enough today for us to talk.”

 

Mr. Weasley’s hand slid from his shoulder and patted him on the back once.  “We knew you’d feel the same about it.  Now, let’s get back to this scroll, shall we?”

   


	23. Chapter 23 - A House Guest

  
Author's notes:

Thanks Indie for your handy editing!

 

 

* * *

 

Ginny continued to heal and was soon able to talk, the bruises fading on her throat.  Harry and she had discussed his dreams and the curse and decided that they should stay apart, at least whenever he was asleep.

 

One late August morning Harry rose to find that a band of Death Eaters had attacked a village in Egypt near to the location Ron had spent his time in the spring.  Four people had been killed, including one of the faction members that had hired Bill and Ron to do their dirty work.  Everyone thought it was odd that Death Eaters would go so far as Egypt when they had rarely strayed from England in the past.

 

Harry and Ron were both accepted into the Auror Academy and were slated to begin in two weeks’ time.  Remus, Harry, Ron and Ginny had continued to work on the house in spurts and now that Ron was spending more time with Hermione, Harry felt free to stay at Grimmauld and possibly pursue his idea of having Ginny move in with him after school got out.

 

September first arrived with such speed that even Mrs. Weasley, the always prepared, mother-of-the-year type, was struggling to get everything ready for her youngest child’s departure.  Ginny came down for breakfast, looking around at the room of people smiling at her and feeling a sense of importance or maybe it was nostalgia.  She knew this was the last year for any of her family to attend Hogwarts.  Her brothers were in their usual jovial mood and did their best to send her off in style, and she promised to do her best to make a name for the Weasley family.  It just seemed so odd to be going back to school without Ron, Hermione or Harry along.

 

It was an understatement to say that she would miss them, resolving herself not to make a big deal of it.  Putting forth her best air of casual confidence, she went about her morning and arrived at King’s Cross at ten to eleven, Ron and Mr. Weasley having delivered her for this last start of term. Arriving at Platform nine and three quarters, she couldn’t help but scan the crowd for a head of black, messy hair.  The thought of him not coming to say goodbye was unfathomable and she kept biting her lip, steeling herself for the possibility.

 

She felt goose bumps erupt on her skin as she recalled that evening at the Burrow two weeks earlier.

 

  _The Healers had done a wonderful job repairing her throat so that swallowing was no longer a painful prospect.  She still couldn’t manage anything too solid to eat, but Mum’s soup was doing the trick.  It wasn’t the pain that was driving her crazy as much as the quiet of her room and she shuffled downstairs hoping to at least spend some time amongst people.  Lying on her bed for the past six hours did nothing for her mood.  She desperately wanted to see Harry whom she knew was probably torturing himself._

_Nearing the bottom of the stairs, she caught_ _Ron_ _’s eye as he looked up from the chess board and the dark haired mate seated opposite.  Ginny watched as Harry’s head lifted and_ _Ron_ _motioned toward her with his eyes.  Harry was on his feet in less than a second.  She almost expected him to run from the room based on his quick reaction, but he tucked his hands in his pockets and gulped down what Ginny thought was probably several days worth of guilt.  Three sets of eyes danced around the room, each conveying their own message._ _Ron_ _clearly wanted to leave, but Ginny thought either Harry had asked him to stay or he was hesitantly playing the overly protective brother role.  Either way, he looked uncomfortable as he gripped a nearby book and did his best to blend in with the armchair._

_A stuttered voice finally broke the moment.  “Hi, Gin.  H-how are you feeling?”_

_“A little housebound.”  She adjusted the collar on her dressing gown and pulled the belt just a bit tighter, as if modesty played a part in this conversation.  Only when his eyes darted to her neck did she realize the gravity of her actions.  She wanted to slap herself upon realizing that Harry mistook her simple adjustment for an attempt to hide her bruises._

_He nodded and managed to walk a bit closer, but still a safe distance, in Ginny’s opinion.  His eyes were riveted on her.  They were wide and searching, full of so many emotions - concerns and hesitations, desires and missed opportunities - that she couldn’t stand it anymore.  Ignoring_ _Ron_ _’s presence, she closed the gap between them, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest.  The relief was overwhelming.  Releasing a deep breath against him, the deep thumping of his heart offered such comfort and she wallowed in the warmth of it._

_“Gin, I don’t know if you should be around me right now.”  His hands remained in his pockets as he spoke, but as she held him tighter, they slipped free and she felt him draw lazy circles on her back.  It was heaven.   The bliss was so complete, it was hard to pull away, but she knew there were things to be said and she steeled herself with one final moment in his arms before drawing back._

_“You are not going to keep me away.  Do you understand?”  She met his eyes, but kept her arms around his waist.  “This was not your fault and I am not going to sit in my room or avoid you at all costs because of it.”_

_“But…”_

_“No!”  She raised her voice for the first time in several days, shocking herself as much as the two boys in the room._ _Ron_ _peered over the edge of his book._

_“_ _Ron_ _, will you please give us a minute?”_

_Her brother shifted his gaze to Harry and finally back to her.  “Please,_ _Ron_ _?” she urged._

_He rose and walked slowly, turning as he reached the  doorway.  “I’ll um…just be in the kitchen…if you need me.”_

_Ginny wasted no time.  “Harry, something is going on.  These dreams of yours are not of the normal variety, but that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be around you.”_

_“Ginny, I promised your Dad and your brothers that I’d stay away…”_

_“Well, that is unacceptable!  I’m leaving for school in two weeks and we won’t see each other for months!  Months!  I want to spend some time with you before I leave.”_

_The fleeting smile on Harry’s face couldn’t cover the unease in his eyes.  She just wanted to reach up and rub those little creases between his brows – to erase all the worry._

_“I want to spend time with you, too, but I can’t risk hurting you again.”  His hands slid up her arms.  “It almost killed me to see you in that hospital with those bruises and to know that I did that.  Me!  Dream or not, I don’t know what’s going on Ginny.”_

_“Then let’s compromise, alright? I won’t come around when you’re sleeping.  If you doze off on the sofa, I’ll leave the room.  I’ll stay at the Burrow at night, alright?”_

_He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment and Ginny knew she had him.  “Gin, you can really wear a bloke down, you know it?”_

_“So, you agree?”_

_“Yes.  You know I don’t want to stay away from you, not if I can help it, but you promise to stay away from me if anything looks odd.  This whole curse thing has too many unknowns.”_

_“Agreed.  Shall we kiss on it?”  Ginny smiled as if she had just offered her hand and it was the simplest question in the world.  Harry, on the other hand, paled slightly._

_“W-What?”_

_But Ginny didn’t give him time to hesitate and stepped so close that she could feel his breath on her face._

The whistle from the steam engine blew.

 

“Good luck, pumpkin.”  Mr. Weasley kissed the top of her head.  

 

“What?  Oh, yes, thanks Dad.”  Ginny snapped back to the present with a slight shiver and watched as her Dad strode over to speak to Tonks who was on duty at the station.  The past week had been quite lovely and her cheeks warmed as she recalled holding Harry’s hand, several long talks and some amazing kisses.  But now it was time to leave and it was taking all of her fortitude to keep a cheerful expression.  Ron offered to help get her bags on the train, but just as he went to lift her trunk, a hand on his back caused him to snap around and Ginny to release a long pent-up breath.

 

“Hey, mate.  Let me help.”  Harry reached for a handle on the trunk and together they hoisted it up onto the train.  Ron climbed up the steps, directing his comments back to Harry.  “I’ll take it the rest of the way.  Why don’t you say goodbye.”  He nodded toward Ginny who stood, still gnawing on that bottom lip and twisting her fingers around as she watched them.

 

Harry smiled briefly at Ron and then headed back over to Ginny.  Her v-neck sweater gave ample evidence that her bruises were gone, something that provided a sense of relief and closure for Harry as he neared.  He offered her a bright smile and noticing her posture, took her hands briefly in his.  “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”

 

“I hoped you would.”  Ginny walked around a brick column and Harry followed, hoping to find just a small window of privacy.

 

They watched each other for a moment, each trying to find the appropriate thing to say, each wanting to express something meaningful and yet not make this as difficult as it was turning out to be with all the people that were milling about the platform.

 

Harry reached up to quickly stroke her cheek and ran his finger lightly over her mouth.  “Don’t bite those beautiful lips.  I need them in good shape for future snog sessions.”

 

That did the trick as a warm smile broke across her face.  “Oh, you do, do you?  And what makes you think that they would be willing to participate in such an activity?”

 

“I’d show you, but we’re standing here in the middle of the train station.”  The group of people moved into view and they knew their alone time was over.

 

“Ever vigilant.”  She rolled her eyes, raising her eyebrows to demonstrate her point.

 

Harry chuckled.  “Something like that.”  Ron reappeared after having delivered her trunk and walked toward them as Harry continued.  “I’ll write as often as I can.”

 

“Me, too.”  By now Ron was standing beside them, but Ginny kept her focus on Harry, her eyes glazing just slightly.  “Please be careful.  Don’t do anything foolish.  Think through everything before you take action.”

 

“We will, won’t we Ron?”

 

“Don’t worry ‘Sis.  I’ll keep him out of trouble.”  Ron wrapped an arm around Ginny.

 

Harry still looked directly into Ginny’s eyes, but he spoke to Ron.  “Can you give her a hug and a kiss for me, Ron?”

 

Ron reached his other arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze and kissed her on the cheek.  “That’s all you get, mate.”

 

Ginny grinned again.  “It’ll do for now.”

 

“It’s from me, too, you know, ” Ron countered, appearing offended by her comment.

 

“I know.  Thank you, Ron.”

 

“You’d better get on the train.”  Ron and Harry walked her over to the steps and both offered their final goodbyes, waving at her through the window as she entered the car.  The train whistle blew and the car jerked as the first puffs of steam bellowed forth.

 

The very next morning, Ginny received her first correspondence from Harry and she wrote back immediately.  Thus began a fervent use of stationary, quills and ink such as England had never seen.

 

*** 

 

Hermione kept replaying those words in her mind.  _Will you marry me?_   How many times during her childhood had she dreamt of hearing them and yet, this was not the outcome that her ten-year-old self had imagined.  It ranged from depressing to downright infuriating.  She knew her rejection had been painful for him, but Ron apparently refused to give up.  Despite her turning down his proposal, he spent most of his free time with her.  He told her he saved up a decent amount of his paychecks from the twins and wanted to take her out to dinner a few times and even to a Muggle movie one night.  She kept repeating that he didn’t need to treat her so well when she had failed him so miserably.  However, when he wanted to go with her to her first Healer appointment, she couldn’t deny wanting him close and she noted that he had started reading books about fetal development and both magic and muggle birthing options.  Hermione had been surprised more than once to come home and find he had prepared dinner for them or would read her some poetry or bring her fresh flowers.

 

She started out feeling guilty that he was doting on her in such fashion after she had flatly refused him.  Her feelings for him weren’t the problem.  If he had proposed without a baby in the equation, she would have said yes in an instant, but there was something about his tone, the manner in which he spoke to her – it lacked something.  Hermione’s dictionary of a mind searched for the right term – romance, conviction, genuine desire – the firm truth that he was convinced of his life’s goal and that he wasn’t just willing to marry her only for the sake of this baby.  She wanted to marry for love, a deep and undivided love that would last long after any children were brought into the world.  She was sure that after this child was born, Ron would still want to experience his youth.  He’d want to go out with friends, attend parties and probably date other girls, especially ones that didn’t have stretched out stomachs from giving birth.

 

Harry confessed to knowing about the baby just before September first and although Hermione was not happy that Ron had told him, she felt a sense of relief knowing she had one less person to hide it from.  Thinking back, she realized that she should have noticed how Harry had been so cheerful and helpful around her.  He brought her tea, lay blankets on her when she was chilled and made her breakfast on a couple of occasions.  Her heart warmed when she thought about the kind of father he would make some day, if he ever lived past the ripe old age of twenty.

 

Her morning sickness continued into September, along with the increasing number of missed work days.  The stomach virus story had only held up for so long and she was forced to leave her brand new job, something that tore at the very fiber of her being.  Years of education, of studious work and dedication had given her the opportunities to do anything she wanted and now, due to a misdirected charm – or maybe just fate – she had to step down from her very first job.

 

Perhaps it was the loss of her job, the absence of so many goals, maybe just raging female hormones, but the guilt she had felt earlier began to turn to something more akin to anger.  How could Ron keep acting like nothing was different between them?  She turned him down.  She refused.  He just kept up this loving charade when she knew he was looking for a way out.  Suddenly his ‘affectionate’ tone sounded condescending; his advice, patronizing.  She didn’t want to feel guilty anymore and began to take it out on the most willing soul around, Ron.

 

The rent was paid up through the first of the month, the landlord giving her fifteen more days when she explained that funds were low, but to add insult to injury, she was then forced to deal with the prospect of loosing her flat.  Ron kept insisting that she should tell her parents or his parents and that somehow they would find a way to help her keep the apartment.  Even Harry offered to cover her rent, but she refused, her pride too bruised to accept the charity of even her close friends.

 

So, when September 14 came, she was staring into the face of homelessness, still unable to bring herself to move back to the Burrow or to her parents’ home and thoroughly frustrated with both Ron and her own failings..

 

“Hermione.  You have to be out tomorrow.  Now, you have to move in to the Burrow or ask Harry to stay at Grimmauld.”

 

“I am NOT some charity case.  I will find my own way.”  Her tea had escaped its cup and was sloshing about the saucer as she pushed it away, her hair a ratted mess to match her nerves.  

 

“How?  You’ve turned down everyone’s help.”  Ron retorted and if Hermione wasn’t already so irritated with him, she would have felt proud of the maturity he displayed.  “We all love you, despite that nasty stubborn streak of yours, and we want to help you, but you just keep throwing it back in our faces!  I don’t know what else to do for you!”  Ron paced the floor in the kitchen, running a hand through his hair, his tone clearly indicating his annoyance with her.

 

  _Good.  Well, maybe he’ll finally get the message and leave!_

She paused, trying to comprehend her own thoughts.  They were a mash of broken dreams and missing pieces that had little hope of coherency.  

_I just want to escape.  I need to be left alone!_   

“Well, maybe you should just forget about me and get on with your life!  If I’m such a bloody pain in the arse…”

 

“Hermione!”

 

“What?  You can swear, but I can’t?  Ron, you have Auror Academy and you should be concentrating on that right now.  Why are you here?”

 

He stopped to kneel down next to her chair.  “Hermione.  Despite everything, you are my life.  Why can’t you seem to understand that?  I would rather give up everything else and just have you and our baby.  Don’t you know that?”

 

For a brief moment, she felt like her old self, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion as she stared at the man kneeling before her.  

 

When she spoke, it was the soft, kind words of a Hermione that she used to be.  

 

“You are such a wonderful man, Ron.  You will make some girl a wonderful husband some day, but…you need to live your life first and I’m just keeping you from doing that!”  

 

“Hermione, what are you talking about?  You think you know what I want from my life?  It’s my life!  I should know what I want!  This isn’t Hogwarts.  I’m not your classroom subject and you don’t know it all!”

 

A rush of rage and desperation, hopelessness and hormones overtook her last ounce of sanity.  She pushed the chair back and stood up, slapping her hand on the table, causing the tea cup to rattle.  “I won’t let you throw everything away for me.  I won’t!  Now, just LEAVE ME ALONE!”  Her eyes clenched shut and with a crack she Disapparated.

 

*** 

 

“Damn it, woman!  You know you’re not supposed to Apparate!”  Ron kicked the nearby footstool, sending it flying across the room and into a nearby table.  The force knocked over several framed photos.  _Why is she being so stubborn?_   He stopped pacing for a second and carefully replaced the picture on the table.  Ron thought of all the possible places she could have gone and started Apparating to them, the park, the city walk, the Burrow, Grimmauld, anywhere he could think of.

 

*** 

 

Mid-September’s evening air was just starting to give off a slight chill and Draco had started a fire in the fireplace and settled down for a quiet evening.  He recently started managing some of his family’s holdings, but he did his best to steer clear of his father at all costs.  The most pleasing part of his life was the fact that he had found a job, on his own merits, at an investment firm.  His knowledge in this area, something his father had taught him since he was five, gave him a distinct advantage over many others.  Still, he detested the idea that his father had actually given him something of value.  His employer worked closely with Gringotts, but he was careful not to associate himself with any of his father’s contacts at the bank.

 

With a snifter of brandy before him, he sat relaxed, going through some paperwork when a knock on the door begged for attention.  He had a house elf, of course, despite Hermione’s objections - ones that played over in his head.  However, he placated his guilty conscious by paying the elf and giving him a day off once a week.  He ignored the knock on the door, fully expecting the elf to get it, but on the second knock it struck him that this was the afore mentioned day off and he quickly set down his brandy and jogged to the large entryway.  Grabbing his wand, he performed a spell that allowed him to look through the door to inspect any uninvited guests.  His eyes lit up and his mouth fell open when he saw Hermione at his door.

 

Without another thought, without considering his options or formulating a plan, he threw the door open, a huge smile spreading across his face.

 

“Hermione!  Welcome!  Come in, come in, please.  To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

He had stepped back to allow her to gain entrance, but she remained on the stoop.  Then the memory of their last encounter came back to the forefront of his mind and he understood her hesitation.  His tone changed, more serious.  “Hermione.  Please, come in.”

 

Taking a small step, she just crossed the threshold, enough for him to close the door, but no further.  “H-hello, Draco.”

 

His expression changed as soon as he saw the look on her face.  It appeared she had been crying recently and she looked unsure of herself, unwilling to meet his eyes.  Beyond that, she appeared exhausted and shaky, her eyes heavy and hair matted.  His concern grew exponentially the more she stood there.

 

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”  He reached out for her hand and pulled her into the living area.  She looked at his glass of brandy, licking her lips and nearly collapsed into the cushion.  Draco noticed this immediately.  “Would you care for a glass of brandy?”

 

She nodded feebly and he moved to a nearby cart to pour her a glass.  Returning a moment later, he handed it to her, watching her raise it to her lips and then stop without taking a single sip, her hand visibly trembling to maintain its grasp.  She held a breath, then released it and set the glass down on the table.  “Draco.  I-I need some help.”

 

“Sure.  Anything.  What do you need?”  He sat down next to her.

 

She seemed to labor with the effort to speak.  “I’ve run into a bad patch and I need a place to…”  She paused and looked around the room, her brows knotting in apparent confusion.  She rubbed the side of her head.  “I was hoping that maybe I could…”  He noted how her eyes kept staring at the brandy and he raised the glass back up for her.  

 

“You sure you don’t want this?”  This time she flatly refused and he set it back down.  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”  His hand moved up to rub her back in what he hoped was a very platonic gesture.

 

“I…I lost my job and I’ve run out of rent money.”

 

“Hermione Granger.  Lost her job?  You probably have twenty others lined up waiting for you.”

 

She pulled in a breath as if to say more, but just shook her head and began to chew on a fingernail that trembled near her lips.  She seemed unwilling to give him any more details, but her eyes started to water up and he saw two tears drip down onto her hands before he wrapped his arm around her in a stronger, warmer fashion.

 

“You’re welcome to stay here, if you want.”  His other hand reached across and pulled the hair that had slipped forward, back behind her ear.  “Now, what can I do to make you feel better?  You obviously don’t want the brandy.  How about some hot tea or maybe a warm bath?”

 

She barely managed to squeak out a reply, her head nodding weakly.  “Uh-huh.”

 

Draco got her the tea and then spent a few minutes on the guest bedroom.  It hadn’t been used and was clean, but he fluffed the pillows on the bed, lit several candles and then started a tub of warm bath water for her.  Noticing that she came without any bags, he grabbed one of his button-up shirts and laid it on the bed for her to wear.  

 

Dealing with the immediate needs left little time for him to contemplate the reasons for her arrival, but a million scenarios tripped in the back of his mind, opportunities and questions.

 

When he came back to the living room, she was lying across the sofa and he had to help her up.  After directing her to the location of the towels, he left her to soak and went back to the sitting room, slamming back his brandy in one gulp.

 

This was certainly interesting.  Never in his best conceived dreams could he hope to have Hermione Granger sitting in his flat, asking for a place to stay.  Despite the oddity of the situation, he couldn’t help the small grin that overtook his face.  Maybe things were going to turn out for the best after all.

 

Hermione never came out of her room for the rest of the evening and Draco finally went to bed, only tapping on her door once to ask if she was alright.  The next morning, he got up a bit earlier than usual and prepared something for his guest before getting his usual shower and dressing for work.  He left her a note stating that breakfast was under a warming charm and that he would be at work, but would pop in on her during his lunch break.

 

*** 

 

Hermione slept.  She slept like she hadn’t for years.  And still she awoke feeling exhausted – but more so, hungry.  She looked around the sumptuous room.  For being a flat, this room appeared more splendid than most middle-class homes.  Her head just wanted to sink back into the down pillow.  She struggled to recall the previous evening.  Screaming at Ron, Apparating and discovering that she stood in the middle of London feeling like her legs wouldn’t hold her up anymore.  The sense of confusion, of loosing her direction and then there it was…a familiar gate and a door.  She had been here before and she fumbled with the lock on the gate and nearly tripped up the steps.  And then, Draco at the door.  _What have I done?_   

 

Her stomach growled fiercely, something that happened quite a bit lately.  It seemed the more vomiting she did, the less she wanted to eat and the hungrier she grew.  Right now food was the most important thing on her mind.  Stretching out a wide yawn, she rose and wandered on still shaky legs into the kitchen, palming the hallway walls for balance and finding the food still under a warming charm. She picked up a piece of bacon.  A crack announced the arrival of her host and it took a moment of looking into this frozen face to realize in horror that she was standing in his kitchen wearing nothing but his nightshirt which didn’t cover nearly all that it should.

 

*** 

 

When Draco took his lunch break, little did he know what awaited him at the flat.  She was a breathtaking sight, standing in nothing but his white oxford, her hair a bushy mess and eyes sparkling and wide.  Draco couldn’t help where his gaze traveled.  His eighteen year old hormones directed his vision over her calves, up her thighs and grazing over the buttons trailing up her front until he finally met her eyes.  She made a move as if to exit the room, but Draco quickly stepped in front of her path, almost by instinct, grabbing her arms.  He wanted to push her onto the kitchen table and have his way with her, but his damnable manners caught him just in time.  At least he thought it was manners.

 

“Draco.”  He wasn’t sure – it sounded like a request, but possibly a warning.  He thought it best to error on the side of caution.

 

“It’s alright.  Just eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”  He nodded back to the plate on the counter.  “I’ll find you a robe, alright?”  He sensed her relax just a bit and she backed away a few steps.  He strode back to his bedroom, returning in a moment with a blue, fluffy robe.  It smelled of his cologne and was twice her size, but he held the arms out for her and she slipped it on, enjoying one more lustful stare at her thighs.  Wrapping the belt around herself, she muttered “Thanks.  And, thanks for breakfast.”

 

“No problem.  I’m just on my lunch break and thought I’d see if you needed anything.”

 

“Oh, um…no.  I’m fine.”  She pulled the break in the robe over her legs a bit more tightly.  “Um…where’s my wand?”  He couldn’t help but notice the apprehension in her voice.

 

“It’s in the bedroom.  Did you sleep well?”  She was defenseless, in more ways than one, but he was going to do his best to put her at ease.  He moved to pull her chair out for her as she picked up her breakfast plate and prepared to sit at the table.

 

“Yes, thank you.”  She looked cautiously over her shoulder at him as he pushed in her chair.  “I’ll be out of here as soon as possible.  I don’t mean to be an inconvenience.”

 

He leaned down and spoke softly into her ear. “This is a pleasure.”  Striding around the table, he dragged his hand against her arm.  “Well, I have to get back.  You are welcome to stay as long as you need to.  I’ll be home later.  Just make yourself at home.  There are plenty of books and music.”

 

She nodded and he disappeared a second later.  

 

*** 

 

Hermione struggled to stay awake after breakfast.  Similar to a patient who doesn’t recognize the cause due to the overwhelming effects of the symptoms, she passed the day in a daze.  If she had been of clear mind or even if she had one of her precious books on pregnancy and magic, it would have been abundantly clear that she was suffering from the effects of an ill advised Apparition.  She spent part of the day lounging around the flat, finding something to read and, when possible, enjoying her first day without morning sickness in nearly three months.  The relief of not throwing up every thirty minutes was eclipsed by the extreme fatigue.  It seemed that sleep would overtake her on a whim and she’d wake up on the sofa, in an arm chair or back in bed on more than one occasion.  Several times she found herself in some part of the flat and didn’t remember how she got there.  

 

Draco returned that evening and called for her once before he heard a pop and turned to find his father standing in the entrance.

 

“Father.  This is unexpected.”  He stepped in the direction of the hallway, hoping to block that path should his father decide to move about the room.  Casually, he set down his cloak on a nearby chair and tried to appear relaxed as he glanced at the day’s post that lay on a nearby table.

 

Lucius ran a finger along the mahogany side table, raising his brows as he examined the pad of his fingertip and scanned the room.  “Yes, well, I decided that it was about time that I came for a little visit and saw this new…um…well, what do you call this place?  It certainly isn’t a home, although I do at least recognize that you’ve inherited some of your parents’ good taste in furnishings.”

 

Draco’s ear was still tuned to the back bedrooms, hoping that Hermione hadn’t heard anything and was safely tucked away in her quarters.  He didn’t have time to consider his reasons for not wanting his father to see her.  Maybe later on he would have the opportunity to delve into the cause of this apparent protective attitude, but for the moment he had to deal with an overly curious parent. 

 

“Thank you, Sir.  Technically, it’s an apartment, but I was fortunate to find one with some rather spacious rooms and an excellent view.”

 

“Really?  And where is this view?”  Draco could have slapped himself as now his father was walking around the place more, looking out the various windows.  Draco cautiously glanced down the hall and noted that at least Hermione’s door was shut.  “Oh, the view from my bedroom is wonderful, but I’m afraid the room isn’t suitable for guests at the moment.”

 

“Why, Draco.  Don’t tell me that you are without the services of at least two house elves.”

 

“No, sir, I do have an elf, but he is away at the moment, handling something for me.”

 

“Ah.  Well, good.  I was about to…”

 

“Draco?”  The sound of a female voice floated in from the back bedrooms.  Lucius’ eyebrow arched up and a small smirk appeared on his face.

 

“Son, you didn’t tell me that you had female companionship present.”

 

They both heard the sound of a door unlatching.  “Draco?” This time the voice was much clearer.  “Oh.  Yes.”  Draco hoped his nervousness wasn’t too obvious and tried to scratch his cheek casually and smile.

 

“Well, bring her out to meet me.”

 

Draco’s heart started beating wildly and he offered something that was supposed to appear as an agreeable gesture before he turned to proceed down the hallway.  As soon as he was out of his father’s line of sight, he burst into a jog, meeting Hermione just as she stepped out of the bedroom.  He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the room, closing the door behind them and throwing a one-way silencing and locking charm onto the door.  Hermione looked shocked, confused and even more beautiful than his dreams.

 

“Hermione.  My father is in the next room!  He heard you and thinks you are my latest girlfriend and now he wants to meet you!  You have to Apparate out of here!”

 

“What?!  I-I can’t…I can’t Apparate.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because.  Just because I can’t.  Okay?”  It was perplexing, but he actually hated the idea of taking advantage of her in this clearly weakened state, but circumstances dictated the need for haste.  Draco tugged at the belt on her dressing gown frantically, something that Hermione misunderstood and started to pull back against her.

 

“What are you doing?”  Her eyes blazed wide as he ripped the robe off of her, leaving her in the white oxford.

 

“Look, he’s expecting to meet you.  You have to Transfigure.  Use a glamour charm and change your looks.”  After having pulled off the robe, Draco pulled out his wand and uttered several spells that made his white shirt lengthen and fit her body, becoming a dress.  He turned a pair of his slippers into slip on shoes.

 

“I don’t want to meet him.  Tell him I’m sick or something.  I’m not going out there!”  She pushed him back with more strength than Draco thought she had.

 

“He’s been on me all year, insisting that I find a wife and soon.  He wants grandchildren as soon as possible.  I’ve told you about how he wanted me to marry Pansy.  Well…”

 

“Draco!  I’m waiting!”  His father’s voice boomed out through the house.  Draco took another pleading look at Hermione and unlocked the door, lifting the spell.  A second later he was back to his father.  “I apologize, sir.  She’s not feeling well at the moment.”

 

Lucius quirked a brow.  “What a shame.”  Whatever his words, his actions spoke otherwise and he pushed past his son and started down the hallway.  “Draco, you have to teach your women their place in life and when they are wanted in your presence, they must come.”  He was looking in each doorway and quickly approaching Hermione’s room.

 

“Sir, she’s not dressed.  Please.”  Draco’s voice was growing louder in hopes that Hermione would hear them approach and Apparate away, but his father had reached the room and turned the knob on the door, throwing it open.  He strode into the room, seemingly unconcerned that he might be infringing on a lady’s privacy and Draco followed him, drawing his wand carefully.  Draco knew he could simply reveal the truth and his father would be absolutely delighted, but there were no assurances that he wouldn’t just take Hermione from Draco’s flat and that just wasn’t something he was prepared to deal with.  It had taken him months to get to where they were and his father wasn’t going to take her from him, not now.

 

At first Draco thought she had left and was about to relax when he heard the door to the dressing area open and out walked this woman whom he didn’t recognize.  The glamour charms had been done so well, that unless Draco knew this was Hermione, he never would have guessed it on his own.  Her hair was long and blonde and her eyes had shifted to a hazel color.  The configured night shirt clung to her as she stepped out of the room, and she forced a smile onto her face as she looked at Draco and his father.  He quickly slid his wand up into his sleeve and put on a mask with the practiced art of a stage actor.

 

“Ah, there you are darling!”  Draco walked over to her quickly, placing an arm around her waist and escorted her a bit closer to his father, all the while holding her firmly.  “This is my father, Lucius Malfoy.”

 

Lucius offered a hand and Hermione lifted hers daintily.  “Father, this is my girlfriend…” he thought quickly for a name, but she interrupted.  

 

“Delilah.  I am pleased to meet you.”  

 


	24. Chapter 24 - Unspoken Desire

  
Author's notes:

Thanks to Indie for her great beta work and to all the readers who have taken the time to contact me about this story.  I love hearing all your theories and viewpoints!!  It's very exciting watching this play out and getting the varied perspectives so, thank you so much for your continued comments and support!

 

* * *

 

Lucius brought Hermione’s hand up and kissed it, sending a shudder through her system.    The transfiguration she had performed on herself was difficult to maintain.  It was well known that pregnant witches should refrain from using spells that required any shifting of their cells.  Transformations were unwise and Apparating was definitely frowned upon.  It could be harmful to the baby and was extremely exhausting for the mother, sometimes leaving them feeling dizzy and disoriented.  And she had done both within the past forty-eight hours, the most recent compounding the effects.  Cautious to only transform her hair, cheekbones and eye color, the effort was still taking a toll.  It was something akin to having the flu – her joints ached and she just wanted to fall over and sleep.  She struggled to remain in control and keep a smile on her face, but couldn’t help the knee jerk reaction to the elder Malfoy’s lips upon her hand.  For a moment, she looked at her hand, waiting for some grotesque parasite to erupt on her skin.  Being this close to Lucius Malfoy made her tremble and without intending to, she gripped Draco’s arm even tighter.

 

Lucius’s eyes squinted just slightly as he fixed his gaze on her eyes.  “And do you have a last name, dear?”  

 

Draco must have sensed Hermione’s fear, something she truly did not want to show and yet could not help.  However, at least he attempted to get them both out of the situation quickly.

 

“Father, Delilah isn’t feeling all that well and had come in here to lie down for a bit.  Isn’t that right, love?”

 

Hermione pulled her hand back from Lucius, hoping she hadn’t jerked it too hard, and turned to look up into Draco’s eyes.  She felt him clutching her firmly around the waist, possibly the only thing holding her up and she leaned into him just slightly.  It would play into the ruse, she thought, allowing herself to accept the strength of his arm.  

 

Suddenly, her throat tensed as if she had just eaten sand and she tried to swallow a pocket of air.  It sort of came out as a gurgling gulp.

 

“Yes.  I’m sorry.”  Gathering what little strength she could from Draco’s presence, Hermione turned back to Lucius and forced herself to make eye contact with her now somewhat swimming vision.  She concentrated on her words.  “Perhaps we could speak more on a future visit?”

 

“Of course, my dear.  My apologies for intruding on your rest.  I do hope you feel well soon.”  He nodded in a farewell gesture and stepped back, pivoting toward his son.  “I’ll just see myself out, Draco.  It was lovely meeting you and I hope that you and Draco will join his mother and me for dinner one evening soon and you can tell me all about your family.”

 

Her saving grace came in the fact that the uncontrollable tremors of her left hand were hidden behind Draco’s back.  She fisted his shirt, focusing all her energy into staying vertical.  If Draco hadn’t noticed her labored predicament by now, it was impossible to overlook it anymore.  Lucius bid his farewell and walked back down the hallway.  As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione released a final breath and collapsed against Draco.  She slid down to the floor, the room spinning, all glamours fading away.  She lie truly at Draco’s mercy, but did not even have the mental energy to be concerned.  Luckily, Draco caught the side of her head and gently laid her on the floor, her blonde hair already reverted to its normal bushy brown.  

 

*** 

 

“What the…?”  Draco gaped as she fell, but caught part of a shoulder and slid a hand under her head as it lolled weakly to the carpet.  He darted from the room, wanting to ensure that his father was indeed preparing to exit.  There would be time later to fret over the need for additional wards and the obviously insecurity of his life in general, but for now, he had an unconscious woman lying on the floor of his bedroom.  He heard the crack before viewing the emptiness in his flat.  Lucius was gone.

 

Running to the back of the hall, he burst into the room almost expecting to see her sitting on the chair or completely gone having pulled off another great escape, for he had heard of so many in her storied past.  Instead, he stared at her crumpled form – tucked in a semi-fetal position, her brown tendrils just covering her jaw where they had landed when she fell.  He knew Hermione had been frightened.  Lucius did have that effect on many people.  Even his own son had experienced similar feelings on many occasions when put under his father’s probing gaze.  Draco actually wondered what his father would have said if it _had_ been Hermione Granger and not Delilah standing in his room.  Would he have been proud of Draco’s accomplishment?   Or would Draco’s inappropriate feelings toward this mudblood – he winced slightly at his own mention of the word – put him in poor standing?  Lucius had an uncanny knack for discovering most peoples’ true insights.  Would he have known how Draco felt?  He did as he was told, didn’t he?  He befriended her.

 

The great Hermione Granger, brains behind the Golden Trio.  “Hmph.”  This weak female, lying at his feet – yes, he had done his job.  There shouldn’t be any worries about his lack of commitment or failure to complete the task, but…

 

But, she looked so frail, so helpless and she was his…friend.  It was an odd word.  He squinted, feeling perturbed at this realization - suddenly looking at her with new eyes.  Only moments before there had been a body on the rug, but now it was emotions coating his bedroom floor.  This wasn’t just any Muggle, this was Hermione.  His friend.  Acknowledging that being her friend, in charade or reality, still required action to merit that friendship, he stepped closer.

 

Perplexed by her fainting spell, he strained slightly in his attempt to pick her up and carry her to the bed.  He thought himself strong and lean for his age, but obviously wasn’t a huge creature, no rippling muscles that he spent hours upon hours defining.  His life was more that of business and leisure.  So, despite the fact that she wasn’t all that heavy, he still had to task his muscles to lift her.

 

“Weasley can probably toss her over his shoulder with one hand.  Big hulking idiot.”  He mumbled with irritation through a series of grunts as she finally came to rest on the top of the duvet.

 

Tucking a pillow beneath her head, she hummed and her eyes fluttered open.  Draco calmly sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand, rubbing his thumb over the top.  He didn’t quite understand why, but it felt like the right thing to do – troubling, but right.

 

“Hermione, wake up.  Hermione?”  She squinted as if two of him were waltzing before her eyes, blinking rapidly for several seconds until it appeared her focus had returned.

 

“Is he gone?” she asked breathily.

 

“Yes.  He left.  Hermione, what’s wrong?  Why did you collapse like that?  Do you need to go to St. Mungo’s?”

 

“No.”  It was breathy, but forcefully stated.

 

“Something is going on that you’re not telling me.”

 

“It’s nothing,” she slurred.  “I j-just need to rest.  I’m sure I’ll feel good as new in an hour or so.”

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep him away.  He’s so anxious for me to marry someone.  I realize he was a bit insistent.  It is his way.”  Her eyes drooped as she nodded to him and he looked down at the now transfigured dress and decided that she was going to need something else to wear.  Quickly drawing a blanket up around her, he extinguished the lights and made sure the wards were up and the house was secure before Apparating away on a little shopping trip.

 

*** 

 

Ron was past frantic searching for her.  He immediately roped Harry in, but no one else for fear there would be too many questions asked and something might be revealed.  In fact, he lied to his own brothers, saying he and Hermione had a disagreement and he had to take the day off to settle things with her.  Knowing how Hermione got during a typical row, the twins hadn’t questioned him at all and told him ‘good luck’ as he left that morning.  Now as midnight was approaching, the sense of panic began to set in as he and Harry sat on Hermione’s sofa examining a map of London.

 

“And on top of that, she’s due to be evicted tomorrow.  The rent was due on the first and he gave her to the fifteenth, but that was all.”

 

“Ron, I told you I’d be happy to give you the money for the rent.”

 

“She turned it down!  The woman is driving me nutters!  No, I have to do it myself and even that might set her off.”

 

“Alright.  How about, you pay the rent and I’ll just pay you for the work you’ve been doing at Grimmauld.  If I had hired a contractor, he’d have been making a decent amount of galleons per hour.  It’s only fair that I compensate you for all your work.”

 

“Yeah?”  Ron sounded thrilled to receive any payment, even though he hadn’t been expecting it.  But then the full realization of Harry’s plan hit him.  “Yeah!”  He could pay Hermione’s rent so she wouldn’t loose the flat and she wouldn’t be able to complain about receiving charity or anything.

 

“Good.  It’s a deal.”  Harry pulled out some gold from his pocket.  “Here are 50 galleons to start with and I’ll pay you the balance in a couple of days.”  Ron took the gold, enjoying the weight of it in his hands.

 

“Does the landlord here accept Galleons, or do you need Muggle pounds?”  Harry asked.

 

“No, Hermione mentioned that he took Galleons.  I’ll take this down first thing in the morning.  Now let’s figure out where the hell she is.”

 

They continued to study the map, crossing out the areas they had already searched when Ron’s hand came across an area that jogged his memory.  Blakewood.  Where did he know that from?

 

“How about we take a walk around Hyde Park and that area tonight?”  Ron didn’t answer, deep in thought.  “Ron?”

 

“What?”

 

“Hyde Park.  She’s gone there before and liked it.  Let’s go look there for a while.”

 

“Sure. Sure.”

 

They spent a good portion of the night out searching for her, returning just after dawn, both exhausted.  Ron insisted they keep searching, but allowing himself a minute to close his eyes, sleep overtook them both, one on the coach and the other in the reading chair in Hermione’s living room.

 

About ten the next morning, Ron jumped up in reaction to a knock on the door and he greeted the landlord who inquired if Ms. Granger was moving out that day.  Ron handed him some Galleons and returned with a huge smile on his face.  “I paid him the fifty and he agreed to hold it until tomorrow.  You can get the rest tomorrow, right?”

 

Harry yawned out a nod.  “Let’s just pay her up for a few months.”

 

“Yeah, hopefully that will give her enough time to get back on her feet.  If not, I’ll keep paying.  I’m not going to let her and our baby go homeless.”  

 

Harry nodded as he stretched, his neck stiff from sleeping in such an odd position.  “The question is, what are you going to do to keep her home?”

 

“I don’t know.  She’s barking mad at the moment, but I’m not giving up on her.”  He scrubbed the beginnings of some whiskers that scattered his jaw.  “You know, I’ve been reading…”

 

“Ron Weasley reads?”  Harry dared a quick smile almost as if the levity were not welcome.

 

“Shut it…anyway, I was reading these books on pregnancy and so I know that she is dealing with all these…you know…hormones and stuff, so, I don’t think that she’s really…well, she’s not herself.  I’m trying really hard to remember that because otherwise I’d think she’s gone completely off her kit.”

 

Ron rubbed his eyes, grabbing the map again, noting the big red “x” on the map where they had searched the night before.

 

“Where is she, Harry?  What if she’s hurt?”  He dropped the map again.  “You don’t think she could have been…taken, do you?”

 

“Merlin, I hope not.  I’m sure she just needed some space.  She’s probably holed up in some book store or library or something.”

 

“Maybe we should start searching all the book stores.  We need more help.”  And then it hit him.  “Blakewood!  Aw, no.  She didn’t…Harry, come on.  I think I know where she might be!”

 

*** 

 

Draco left his third store, a pair of silky pajamas in the bag along with a plush yellow dressing gown, and a beautiful turquoise cashmere jumper that he thought would look smashing on Hermione.  Out in the shops, Draco’s mind had raced through his options.  If she wasn’t better by morning, he was going to have to get her some help.  But where?  

 

_I wonder if Potter and Weasley are feeling all bereft without their third wheel?_   

 

Again, he berated himself for the almost habitual negative thoughts that seemed to jump out of nowhere.  _I must really be screwed up._

 

He actually enjoyed shopping for the feminine items.  _I wonder if this is how most men feel when they shop for someone they love._ He stopped dead in his tracks. _Whoa!  Where did that come from?  Love?  You’ve got to be kidding.  She’s just a friend.  You don’t love her.  Besides, she’s below your station.  She’s…she’s…bright and beautiful and…_

 

He frowned and mumbled.  “The means to an end.”

 

 *** 

 It was only about ten in the evening and he wasn’t all that tired, but Hermione looked dead to the world.  He checked on her once, laying the pajamas, gown and jumper next to her bed and then decided to get a quick shower and settle in for the night _._ _When she wakes up, I’m going to get an explanation._   

Finishing his shower, he put on a pair of soft pajama pants and a silk, navy robe and trotted into the kitchen, seeing his house elf for the first time in a couple of days.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, sir.  Would you care for some tea, sir?”

 

“Yes, that would be most agreeable.”

 

“Haven will have it ready for Mr. Malfoy in a few moments.”

 

The little elf was actually quite helpful, especially, he noted, when he took the time to extend some courtesies.  The oddity of thanking the little wrinkled creature soon passed.

 

He took his tea, instructing the elf that he had a guest and not to disturb her.  Haven popped away and Draco extinguished the lights as he made his way back to the bedroom.  Tonight he would have to settle for the guest bedroom.  As enticing as it was, he couldn’t find a thrill in sleeping with a basically unconscious girl.  He preferred a bit more – interaction in the bed.  Besides, she had come to him for help, hadn’t she?  His desires were not part of the solution.  

 

About to turn into the guest bedroom, he heard the latch on Hermione’s door turn and a grey shadow appeared in the frame.  The dark hadn’t quite settled on his eyes and he waited for them to adjust as the door opened more fully, allowing the moonlight to shine upon the form of his current house guest and object of his suppressed lust.  She looked directly at him for a moment, the blue glow of the moonlight highlighting her bared legs, peaking out from the hem of his elongated shirt.  She turned slowly, Draco thought almost seductively, and clutched the door frame for a moment before striding back into the room, glancing over her shoulder at him.  _Did she just smile?_   The door remained open and he stepped a bit closer.  _Did she just invite me in or am I imagining things?_ He set his cup of tea down on the small table just inside the door and walked into the room.  The waxing moon provided enough light to see, but it wasn’t bright by any means.

 

“Hermione?”  She didn’t answer, but crawled back into his bed, glancing at him once more with a look that spoke volumes.

 

Approaching the four-post, he was awed by the glow that bounced off of her skin and hair.  The moonlight gave her body a soft sheen and her long, wavy hair lay spread out over the pillow.  With the blanket pulled haphazardly over half her body, Draco tried to find enough moisture in his mouth to swallow the huge lump that had formed in the back of his throat.  Paralyzed with uncertainty and desire, he just stood there watching her.  She didn’t speak, but gripped the sheets and flung them down and then rolled with her back to him on the far side of the bed, beckoning for him to join her.

 

  _This is insane.  She can’t mean this._

Her words to him about just being friends kept replaying in his mind, but here she showed up at his apartment, asking to stay with him, and then he finds her standing in the kitchen in nothing but his shirt, leaning against him when his father was here and now, walking suggestively into the hallway and opening the door for him to enter.  

 

_She came to you for help_.  

 

 

Still, he couldn’t see how he could be misreading any of these clues.  He heard the pillow crunch under her head and saw her look back at him once more.  

 

 

_Do you need anymore of an invitation?_

 

 

He quickly shed his robe and climbed into the bed behind her.

 

Curling up into her form, he allowed himself to stroke her hair for a moment, but didn’t move otherwise, believing that she should be the one to initiate anything between them.  After all, she was coming on to him.  This wasn’t his doing.  Finally, his arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her slightly against him, hoping to offer his own clues.  She only mumbled something he didn’t understand and wiggled slightly, but he recognized the change in her breathing as sleep overtook her again.  Wondering what to do next and without wanting to, he fell asleep.

 

*** 

 

It was sometime in the middle of the night that Hermione awoke.  Her body still felt limp and weak, heavy and sinking into the mattress.  Her joints ached, but she wasn’t sleepy anymore, just physically tired.  The last fleeting memories of a dream were scattered about in her head.  Ron had been there.  He was comforting and warm, but that was all she could remember.  

 

The moonlight had shifted during the night and was casting shadows across the room and she stared at the way the sheer fabric over the four-poster bed was draped along the posts, falling into a soft heap on the floor.  Her mind started to finally awaken and she sensed something strange around her middle.  There was an intense heat behind her and a warm breeze blowing over her neck.  Maybe Ron wasn’t in her dream.  Maybe he was here with her.  

 

_This isn’t my bed_.  

 

She dared not move or she might confirm her suspicions.  Her heart beat increased rapidly as she recognized her surroundings and felt a hand snake up her stomach and clutch at a certain part of her anatomy that was generally reserved for a red-haired wizard who was not with her at the moment.

 

She tried to carefully pull away, but that seemed to be the wrong thing to do as the arm tightened, pulling her closer, pressing her back into the unfamiliar masculine form behind her.  Her mind started to race, running through all kinds of scenarios on what might happen next.  If he was truly asleep, then maybe if she let him wake on his own, he would realize what he was doing and let go.  Why was he in her bed in the first place?  Was he sleepwalking?  Did he…did they?

  

  _Oh, no._   _I wasn’t asleep during all this, was I?_

Her stomach twisted with the familiar nausea, but this time it wasn’t from the baby as she tried to recognize any changes in how she felt.  Maybe he just wanted to…snuggle.  She didn’t feel any different down there.

 

What if he wasn’t asleep at all, just waiting for her to wake and then, if she moved…if she even blinked…  He might think she wanted another go and then she’d end up fighting him off.  Would he stop?  This was her friend, but it was obvious that he wanted more.  Could she actually lay there the rest of the night with his hand resting where it was?

 

One of her questions was answered within seconds.  She wasn’t sure what had triggered it, a change in her breathing or perhaps the fact that her heart’s pace was outdoing itself, but without really knowing how, she found herself on her back, his hands in her hair and his lips pressed against hers.

 Her eyes grew wide as she realized her predicament.  

_Okay, stay calm.  Just push back and tell him to stop and he will, as soon as he pulls his lips off me._

They were soft and warm and he started mumbling something even as he kissed her.  It sounded like ‘want…so much…waited so long’ and he finally drew back, stroking the hair away from her face.  She sucked in a breath and managed to get her palm against his chest and pushed with what little strength she had.  

 

“No.”

 

Luckily he asked the question that she needed desperately to answer.

 

“Are you sure about this, Hermione?”

 

Even though she knew she was a captive audience, pressed underneath him, she couldn’t help but see the warmth, the concern and the longing in his eyes.  In the moonlight, they appeared even more gray than usual but were certainly not the blue that she wanted to see above her.  She pulled in a long, shaky breath and stuttered.  “No, I’m not.”

 

This brought a quizzical look from him, but he remained firmly on top of her.

 

“Draco, I c-can’t do this.  Please, stop.”

 

He pulled himself up so that he was resting on his elbows, his hands still on both sides of her head, stroking back her hair once more.  She felt a slight sense of relief in his subtle retreat. 

 

“Hermione, I didn’t plan this, you know.  You invited me.  I’m bloody sorry if I misread your signals, but they seemed pretty obvious to me.  You show up at my house, asking to stay with me, walk around in my nightshirt and tonight you walked out into the hallway, looking right at me and opened your door for me.  Now, if I misinterpreted all of that, then I am eternally sorry, but you invited me into my own bed.  You know you want this, just as much as I do.”

 

She felt a pool of ice settle at the base of her spine.

 

 “I did what?  I-I don’t remember walking into the hall.  I must have been dreaming or…” she gulped, “…something.”  Draco met her eyes with a greedy stare and then looked down to where his chest met hers and back up.  This was when she realized the heat that had formed between them.  “I didn’t mean to…oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Don’t be.”  The tone of his voice drew her attention back to his face.  The irritation had been replaced with a smooth sensuality.  She wasn’t sure if she should be afraid or assured as he continued.  “You’re the loveliest, sexiest creature I’ve ever had the pleasure of…”  His smile was genuine and his eyes showed unusual warmth, even through the cool steel blue.

 

“Pleasure of what?” she retorted, trying not to allow the terror to show in her voice.  She pushed a bit harder, but he still didn’t move.  “Are you saying we…um…”

 

Draco frowned.  “Well, if we did, then I must have been pretty lousy if you can’t even recall.  I’ll have to try harder next time.”

 

“No!”  She almost cried in panic, her other hand joining to push him away.

 

“I’m just kidding, Hermione.”  He cracked a smile, but it only lasted a second for he must have sensed the seriousness in her face.  “We didn’t do anything, not that I didn’t want to, but you just slept the whole time.”

 

Finally he lifted himself off of her and rolled to the side.  “You have got to explain yourself.  What is going on?  Are you sick?  Because, if you are, then I should get you to to a Healer.  If not, then you have to stop playing with me.  I don’t enjoy feminine mind games with opponents as sexy as you.  They only irritate me.” 

 

 “You think I’m sexy?”  She fisted the blanket and drew it tightly up to her neck.  _What could I have possibly done to warrant that observation?_   Her feet were tangled up in the sheet and she shifted around trying to free them in hopes of escaping the bed as quickly as possible.

“Are you kidding?  Isn’t it obvious?”  He slipped his hand behind her neck and held her firmly, his eyes boring into hers so that the evidence was incontrovertible.  He definitely thought she was sexy and it nearly brought a blush to her cheeks, but she tried not to gasp at his contact.  

It was imperative that she keep a cool head and not give him any more false clues.  She shifted, trying to get him to release her, but the effort proved too exhausting and when she looked back, he was still watching her in a way that made her pause.

  

“It’s just that I haven’t felt very sexy lately.  I’ve just been so exhausted ever since I got here.  I’m so weak, I can barely move.  I shouldn’t have transfigured before, because it just made it worse, but your father was right there.”

 

“Why would transfiguring make you so tired?”  She became acutely aware of his thumb grazing over her jaw.  

 

She tried to slow her breathing and bit her lip, thinking long and hard about sharing her life-altering news with him.  “Draco, please let me go.”

 

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

 

A thought flashed through her mind that she was so weak, he could certainly do as he wished and she couldn’t fight him.  But, this was Draco and even with the few doubts she still held, her relationship with him had changed to the point that she was sure he had no intention of hurting her.  Could she have been fooled so easily?  Was this all a game?  Even if it was, perhaps if he knew the truth, she could persuade him to let her go.  He was going to keep pursuing her unless she told him the truth.

 

“Draco, you have to promise, if I share this with you, that you will keep it a secret.  You cannot tell anyone.  Anyone!  Do you understand?”

 

He stroked the back of his hand over her jaw and shifted slightly.  “Yes, I promise.  What is it?”

 

“I’m….I’m three months pregnant.”

 

He pulled back, lifting more of his weight off the bed, not speaking a word, but just studied her face and started putting together everything that had transpired in the past forty eight hours.  His brow furrowed more.  

 

“Did Potter leave you?  Is that why you came to me?  He took off and left you on your own with this?  That bastard…”

 

“No.  No, it’s not Harry.  He’s not the father.”  She finally managed to scoot back to the far side of the bed, wrapping the blanket around her.  She wasn’t sure if she had the energy to actually stand.

 

“What?  How many men have you been with exactly?”  His tone sounded rather accusatory and the thought flashed within her mind at how odd it was to be having this conversation with him.

 

She responded defensively.  “Well, that’s a rather personal question, isn’t it?”

 

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just that you and Potter have been together all year, except, well….” His eyes shifted back and forth.  “Wait a minute…it’s Weasley, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes.  Harry and I were never together.  It was all an act to try and keep certain people safe.  Ron is the only one I’ve been with.  So, now maybe you understand when I say that I can’t do _this_.”  Her eyes gestured down between them and then caught a flash of yellow and noted the expensive looking dressing gown resting beside the bed.

 

“Hmph.  Well, that’s too bad.  I was really, really enjoying _this_.”  He waggled his eyes on the second ‘really’ and it made her release the smallest of smiles.  

 

“Oh, I was enjoying it, too, right up until the moment I realized you weren’t Ron.”  He scowled and she realized the gravity of her words.  If he truly was her friend, then her statement was probably hurtful, but if he wasn’t…well, if was never wise to antagonize your enemy, especially not when you’re barely strong enough to stand.  

 

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“No!  You are incredibly sexy, Draco and well, I haven’t done anything since…um…well, since summer and it…I mean you are fantastic, but…I just…I can’t…I’m in love with Ron.”

 

His expression turned grim.  For a brief second, Hermione worried she might have to try and run, her peripheral vision catching the doorway.  She couldn’t tell if that look was a sobering disdain or solemn concern.

 

He finally let out a long breath.  “I apologize, Hermione.  The temptation was so strong and I just assumed you wanted this.”  His voice was flat and deathly serious.  “I won’t make this mistake again.”

 

He crawled across the bed toward her, his bare, pale chest exposed above the pajama pants.  She countered as far as she could, nearly falling off the bed.  _I just woke up.  How can I be this exhausted?_  Her chest tightened, but suddenly he smiled at her and placed a very sweet kiss on her cheek. 

 

“You really are beautiful.  Weasley is a lucky man – a git, but a lucky man.”  

 

She shivered against the cool air and Draco rolled off the bed and strode away as if they had just had a casual conversation.  He picked up his discarded navy kimono from the side chair and slipped it back on.  Maybe it was the relief of having him out of the bed, but her arms seemed to lack the strength to even grip the blanket.

 

“I bought you some pajamas and a robe.  They’re right here.”  He pointed to the stack of clothing beside her bed.  “Why don’t you…” he spun around and stared at her, Hermione slipping closer to the pillow, clad in a now wrinkled white oxford.  “…put something on and I’ll make us some tea.”  He only took one step before she stopped him.

 

“Can…can you please hand them to me?  I honestly don’t know if I can get out of bed.  My body just aches all over.”

 

Lifting the pajamas off the chair, he set them on the mattress, puzzled as her eyes seemed to roll within her head.  The revelation was sudden and powerful.  “Hermione, did you Apparate over here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“For being the brightest witch in Hogwarts, you’re not very smart are you?  Don’t you know that Apparating and Transfiguring are two of the worst things a pregnant witch can do?  Even I know that, and I’m a man!  No wonder you’re exhausted.  I’ve heard that doing both can give you hallucinations.  I’m surprised you’re even talking.”

 

“I know I shouldn’t have, but… I was so upset about loosing my flat and I had a big argument with Ron and I just wanted to get away.  I-I wasn’t thinking straight.  I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

 

He sucked in his cheek as if all the lustful thoughts had just leapt out the window to be replaced with an almost paternal look of frustration.  

 

“Can you sit up?”  

 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning the new pajama top for her and gestured that she do the same with her shirt.  Her look of horror brought an equally expressive response.

 

“I promise, I won’t look.”  He glanced away as she managed to release the buttons and slip out of it.  Then, keeping his gaze toward the ceiling, he slid the new one behind her back as she pulled her shoulders off the bed a bit more.  She slid one arm in, trying to hold the sheet or her hand against her chest as she did.  He cocked his head to the left in an obvious gesture to give her some privacy and she let go of the sheet and slid in her other arm.  Her lead-like body crashed back against the pillow and Draco hastily buttoned up the front of the shirt, since it appeared she couldn’t manage on her own.  

 

“I’m so ti…”

 

She was nearly out again and like a concerned father, he pulled the sheet down and slid her legs into the pajama pants, inching them up her legs and tugging them past her hips.  _How quickly things change_.  He chuckled, laying the robe within her reach and pulling the blanket back up over her again.  He allowed himself the joy of running a gentle finger down her smooth cheek.  _Bloody, Weasley.  Poor and freckled and…how the hell did he win her?_

 

“You need to sleep.  I’m going to make a quick potion that should help restore some of your energy.  Then I’m going to owl Weasley telling him that you’re here.  No arguments.”  She nodded her barely awake head, clearly knowing that he was completely in control and was doing what had to be done.

 

Disbelieving his own decision, he scrawled out a note and sent his owl, telling Ron that she was safe, at his apartment, but was very weak and would need help getting home.  Then he checked his potions book to make sure the strengthening potion would not be harmful to the baby and took about two hours to brew it correctly.  She awoke again in the early morning and Draco served her up a dose of the potion and made her breakfast.  By half of nine she was feeling strong enough to get out of bed and shuffled in to the kitchen.

 

They spoke for a while.  It appeared that getting past the whole bedroom scene had refreshed their friendship on a much more intimate level.  Hermione opened up to him on all her fears about the baby, her career, her life with Ron and what this was all going to do to them.  Draco thought back to how she had been the listening post for him that night on the astronomy tower and now he tried to repay the favor by listening and providing what he thought was sound advice.

 

With a palm propping up his jaw, he studied her for a moment.  “If he proposed, then he wants to be with you.  Why are you questioning that?”

 

“I know.”  She stirred her tea.  “It doesn’t make sense, does it?  He’s been really sweet and caring, but not overly…”

 

“Overly what?”

 

“I’m not sure if I can talk about this.”  She twisted the cup against the saucer.

 

“Hermione, after what we just did, I think you can share just about anything with me.”

 

She licked her lips, appearing to bolster her resolve.  “He’s not overly affectionate…in that way.  Of course, I’ve been throwing up for 60 days straight and a bit grumpy and out of sorts, well, really grumpy and out of sorts…but he acts like he doesn’t really want me anymore and it’s just that he’s obligated to take care of me.”

 

There was silence for a moment and Hermione noticed that Draco appeared to be struggling with what to say next.  Depositing his dishes in the sink, he toured his kitchen, running a hand through his white blond mop.  When he finally spoke, the words shocked her.

 

“Hermione…don’t take this wrong, but I’m in love with you.  I know it.  I feel it, but… it’s obvious that you’ve made a choice and Weasley loves you, too.”  Placing his hands on the kitchen counter, his head dipped as if the realization took all strength from him.

 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.  Oh, he wants you.” His head bobbed.  “Blokes can recognize when another bloke wants a woman.  It’s part of the whole male dominance theory.”

 

The pacing began again.  “We spend months, no, years of our lives trying to prove that we are the better male, all in hopes of winning that certain female, that one that strikes our fancy that we don’t want to share with any others.  We strut our indomitable male colors, flex our muscles and even spike our tongues, just to prevent any other creature with the unfortunate happenstance of an XY chromosome from even looking at our girl.”

 

Hermione’s eyes grew wide at his tirade as if this was all a bit much to absorb.

 

“I hate to admit it,” he continued, “but it’s clear that things are not going to happen between us.”  He finally stopped and looked directly at her, slowing his delivery.  “It’s just that I don’t want to loose your friendship.  You’re the first real friend I’ve ever had.  I’m just going to need to figure out how to like you and not love you.”

 

His deep exhale must have signaled an end to his statement and Hermione finally dared to speak.

 

“I…I didn’t know.  I-I don’t know what to say.”

 

“I still can’t believe I’m saying this, but if he wants to marry you, then he really loves you and you need to accept his help.  This is his child as much as yours.  I know I’d feel just terrible if I were in his shoes, not that I carry any feelings for Weasley and I could care less about his life, but what you’ve done is just cruel.”

 

A knock interrupted their conversation and Draco went to investigate, Hermione still sitting mouth agape and stunned.

 

*** 

 

Ron firmly lifted the brass knocker and rapped on the burgundy door twice.  His chest thumped wildly in anticipation.  She had to be here.  If not, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, but the suggestion of asking for Malfoy’s help jumped into and out of his head in a mere instant.  He cleared his throat and rocked on his heels for a second before the door opened.  Draco raised an eyebrow and Ron found it odd that he didn’t look surprised to see him.

 

He squinted at the darkened interior of the flat as the near mid-day light poured in.    Pulling himself up to his fullest height, he hoped to portray an imposing figure in the doorway, giving Draco no hope of winning any confrontation he might have planned.  Harry flanked him and he knew that if she were here, they would easily overpower Malfoy in an instant.  Luckily, Harry appeared calm, for Ron was battling himself over what to do or say when he found her.  His concern for her welfare topped out over the mistrust he had for Malfoy and the question rising like bile in his stomach of why she would bring herself here in the first place.

 

“Is Hermione he…”  His voice rang deep and strong, but halted as he met her eyes across the room.

 

“You got my note?”  Draco asked as Ron pushed past him.

 

“What note?”  Harry replied as Draco gestured for them to enter.

 

“I owled you a few hours ago that she was here.”

 

It took all of Ron’s will power to not reply – _sure you did_.  How could he accept that Draco was one of the good guys.  It just wasn’t in the cards.   At the moment, though, Ron couldn’t find enough moisture in his throat at the moment to utter a single syllable.  

 

A burst of yellow caught Ron’s attention as he strode through the flat.  His eyes took in her gloriously untamed hair strolling down the back of her dressing gown as she turned toward him.  She sat poised in some silk pajamas he had never seen, a cup of tea in front of her.  Unable to restrain himself, he paused and glared threateningly at Draco for a millisecond before rushing over to her.

 

“Hermione.  We have been searching everywhere for you.  Don’t you realize how worried you made me!  Don’t you ever do that again!”  He realized, looking into her stunned face that his tone was bordering on anger, his fists clenched at his sides, and he struggled to soften his approach.  It wouldn’t do to start another argument.  He was so relieved to see her safe and whole, he had to let her know and Draco could just deal with it.  Besides, he knew Harry had his back.  Slumping to his knees, he pulled her close to him, pressing his cheek against her stomach.  This was his family - this woman and tiny baby within her.  His heart roared with affection as she reached up and ran her hands through his hair.

 

Draco’s voice broke the moment.  “She’s going to need help getting home.  She Apparated and then transfigured, all within about two days time.  I made her a strengthening potion, but she’s still really weak.”

 

Ron lifted his head upon hearing this, his eyes now rimmed with moisture, searching her face for an explanation.  “What were you thinking, luv?  You could have hurt yourself or…”  He stopped before spilling the beans, but Hermione assured him.  

 

“It’s alright, Ron.  Draco knows about the baby.”

 

“Weasley…” Draco stepped haltingly forward.  “…if I had known about her condition, I wouldn’t have allowed her to transfigure, but it was an emergency.  My father showed up.”

 

“What!”  Harry spoke up this time.  “Did he see her here with you?”

 

“That’s why she transfigured.  He thinks she’s a blonde named Delilah.”

 

“I’ll explain everything later.”  Hermione interjected.  “Can we just go home now?  I have some apologizing to do.  Just take me to the Burrow.  I have to face up to this some time.”

 

“We’ll go back to your flat.  You don’t have to do this today.”  Ron was still kneeling beside her chair.

 

“But, I’ve been evicted haven’t I?”

 

“I took care of everything.  Your rent is paid up through Halloween.”

 

“You?”  She cupped his cheeks.  “How?”

 

“I do have a job, Hermione.  Now, let’s get you dressed and home.”

 

Ron took her in the back and helped her dress while Harry and Draco talked in the kitchen, going over what had happened with his father’s visit.  About ten minutes later, they were ready to go.  As they walked slowly toward the foyer, Hermione stopped and walked back to Draco who still stood by the kitchen table.

 

She reached up, cupped his cheek and pulled him down to her level before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you, Draco.”

 

Draco smiled, looking at her in a way that made Ron’s gut twist.  

 

“You’re welcome, anytime.”  

 

She stepped back, her hand sliding off his face and Ron quashed the urge to beat Malfoy to a pulp.  Draco must have recognized it, for he looked ready to flinch at any second.  Harry’s continued calm gave Ron enough strength to hold his ground and he quickly wrapped what he hoped was a loving arm around Hermione and escorted her toward the Floo.  They needed to talk, but first to get her well.

  


	25. Chapter 25 - A Second Try

  
Author's notes:

Thank you to everyone for the insightful reviews!  You all give me so much to think about and it makes me even more excited to get the next chapter out.  As always, a big thank you to my beta, Indie, for finding all those silly mistakes when my fingers get ahead of my brain!

 

* * *

 

September passed into October.  Ron and Harry were training constantly, but when Harry wasn’t in the academy, he was back at Grimmauld, working with Bill on the curse decryption, helping Remus around the house and writing almost daily letters to Ginny who was safely stowed back at Hogwarts.  In order to protect the location of Order headquarters, most of the owls went to the Burrow and Mr. or Mrs. Weasley made a point of bringing them to Harry everyday and taking his to be sent.

 

Being the owner of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix and now of age, Harry had been made a full member the previous month.  He now attended regular meetings and had been getting up to speed on the various activities they were involved in.  Harry knew his role and although many Order members and Aurors treated him with more authority, he continued to take advice from those older and wiser than himself.  He did feel respected, but was respectful as well.  Remus, Mad-Eye, Tonks and Kingsley all insisted that he should put his Auror training first and Order business second.  They felt it most important for him to be physically and mentally prepared for the final battle, whenever that happened, rather than handle the daily grunt work.  

 

The lack of progress in the Horcrux hunt gnawed at him almost constantly.  Dumbledore’s voice spoke to him on numerous occasions, reminding him of the importance of finding them.  Hermione had been his sounding board, the one he went to whenever the gravity of the situation pulled on him too much.  However, in her present condition, he felt guilty weighing her down with his persistent, sometimes nagging, questions about research.  There were so many different facets to the Order’s ongoing battle against the dark forces, Harry sometimes felt his Horcrux missions paled in comparison to the more pressing issues that seemed to arise almost daily.

 

Early in October, Harry accompanied Tonks on one such small mission.  His eyes opened to a whole new set of Death Eater networks that were striking small blows across the country, but nothing news worthy enough to garner his attention in the past.  Some things were strictly financial or business related, some factions seemed to be researching new spells or potions and a select few Order members were keeping tabs on that while others were knee deep in surveillance of several key members.

 

One day his surveillance took him to a small business in London where he had followed a known Death Eater.  The man dressed as a normal business man and went about his day like any other bloke.  Harry and Ron were assigned to follow the man and report back on his activities.  They carried extendable ears and put themselves under concealment charms.  The previous night, an Apparition tracking spell had been placed on the Death Eater and so, even when he Apparated away, Harry and Ron were able to follow.

 

After watching the man for about thirty minutes, he arrived at a row of businesses that just skirted the magical part of London.  A few were Muggle, a few magical, but not obviously so.  Ron and Harry made their way around to a side window and pulled out the extendable ears to listen in on the conversation inside.  The man walked in and asked for assistance from Draco Malfoy.  Ron and Harry looked at each other in surprise.  Neither knew that Draco was involved in this.  Ron just scowled, assuming that Draco was involved in Death Eater activity somehow and now he was going to get his proof.  They continued to listen in.

 

“I’m Draco Malfoy.  Can I help you?”

 

“Yes.  Let’s sit, shall we?”

 

“Of course.  What can I do for you?”

 

“My name is Garner.  I have considerable holdings, both in real estate and gold.  My wife likes to dabble in antiques and I have been importing certain items for her over the course of the past few months.”  The man’s voice dropped a few decibels as he continued.  “What my wife doesn’t know is that these same antique shipments are helping me to import other….items…..items that are let’s say….frowned upon by certain authoritative figures.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Let’s just say that these…items…are of great value to a certain individual for whom we share a mutual interest.  I have certain business associates that tell me you are the person to see for help in this area.”

 

“Perhaps you were misinformed.  I deal with investments, not imports.”

 

“You deal with Gringotts, do you not?”

 

“Yes, our firm has a relationship with Gringotts, but I am not an authorized Gringotts representative.”

 

“But you can access information from the books, can’t you?”

 

“What exactly do you want, Mr. Garner?”

 

“Look, I’ll be as blunt as possible.  I know who you are and who your father is.  I know we share a loyalty to a certain very powerful wizard and these items are for his use.  Don’t insult my intelligence by playing daft with me boy.  You do know who I mean, correct?”

 

Ron and Harry couldn’t see, but assumed Draco had answered in the affirmative.

 

“Good.  Well, then you would be well advised to assist in this venture or find yourself in a rather unfortunate predicament.  Why don’t you think it over for a day or two and I’ll return and we can discuss details, hmm?”

 

Ron managed to peer over the edge of the windowsill just enough to see Draco with an expressionless face.  He didn’t seem to acknowledge the man.  Ron almost got chills from the similarity of his stoic and blank persona to that of his father.  Mr. Garner, who seemed to have also taken a less from the elder Malfoy, nodded to Draco in the same fashion as Lucius often did and left the office.

 

Ron withdrew as Harry pulled in the extendable ears.  Draco’s final words were clear even without the hearing devices.  “Bugger!”

 

*** 

 

When Ron wasn’t in training, or helping with Order business, he was nursing Hermione back to health.  However, his demeanor had changed.  It took her about a week to get her full strength back, her morning sickness seemingly ending at the same time.  Ron asked her repeatedly if Draco had hurt her, had done anything that would warrant a good arse whipping, but Hermione denied everything.  ‘He took care of me’ was all she dared utter for fear that any more might result in one or both of the men in the hospital.  

 

The emotional aspect was even harder to get over.  On more than one occasion she looked up to find Ron watching her, his expression conveying doubt and perhaps a bit of regret.  She had hurt him – not intentionally, but the sorrow shone on his face.  Going to Draco, even if it was unintentional, had been a blow to his ego.  She had made so many mistakes.  The shame was overwhelming at times.  She planned out multiple scenarios on how to apologize, how to explain that she never intended for any of this to happen.  Ron deserved that, didn’t he?  She would whisper out an exchange, going over what to say and Ron’s expected response.  But as she lay in her bed, rehearsing the plea, it kept coming to a similar conclusion.  In each scenario, Ron would get angry and leave.  The more she tried to build up her courage, the more afraid she became that any atonement might lead to his departure.  Only two weeks earlier, her mind had been set on convincing him to do just that – leave, get on with his life.  Now, the thought terrified her to the core.

 

Deep down, she longed for the fairy tale, the happily ever after.  Living her life without him would be a bitter pill to swallow, but she truly wanted him to be happy.  Lately, he  looked so dejected.  What could she possibly say to explain herself?  He would surely find her culpable in every aspect.  She insisted on being friends with Draco.  She defended him.  She visited him behind Ron’s back.  She was guilty of all these things.  

 

All the while convincing herself that telling Ron would only make things worse.  Now, she felt more and more ashamed of her actions over the past weeks.  How could she have not noticed Draco’s infatuation with her?  It seemed truly surreal, looking back at the past year and how they had gone from mortal enemy, to friend, to skirting the edge of something bewildering.

 

Two weeks had passed.  Fourteen days of Ron going above and beyond to ensure she ate and slept, waiting on her hand and foot – even when she complained that he was doing too much.  But, ever since her return, he slept on the sofa.  They were constantly together and yet infinitely apart.  His mood had grown more and more somber to the point that their conversations were more polite than friendly.  Even with him five feet away, she felt alone.  More than once, she silently soaked her pillow at night, agonizing over the thought of losing not only a love, but a dear friend.  

 

Hermione couldn’t stand the tension a moment longer and when Ron walked into her bedroom one evening she finally broke the silence.

 

“Ron?” she choked out from the side of her bed.

 

“Yeah?” he set a laundry basket down on the side chair and turned as if to leave, his eyes pointed down.

 

“I’m sorry.”  Her mouth seemed to loose all moisture.

 

His expression remained blank, perhaps a bit of resentment shadowing his eyes as he stopped and finally looked at her.

 

“Sorry for what, Hermione?”

 

His gaze was so cold and yet just looking into his eyes for the first time in weeks made a well of emotions push up from her chest.  She couldn’t stop it.  The guilt, the shame, the bad judgment - it all starting flowing from her eyes.  

 

“For everything.  For arguing with you and leaving like that.  For Apparating and putting the baby at risk.”  

 

Her voice escalated, partially in anger, but the tears flowed freely over her cheeks.  “I’m sorry I let myself get into this situation!  I’m sorry for the way that I’ve treated you.  I’m sorry that you feel bad.”  She pounded the mattress and finally gulped out “I’m sorry that…” she knew it had to be said and forced the words from her throat “…you think I cheated on you with Draco.”

 

Her shoulders shook as the sobs finally took over.  Ron calmly picked up the box of tissues and laid it on the mattress beside her, taking two steps back.

 

For one painfully long moment, she sobbed and he watched, seemingly unfazed by her tears.  Dread filled her, but she dared one water-filled glance and thought she saw his eyes squint just a little in response

 

“Apology accepted.”  His voice remained dry as he turned to leave the room.

 

“Ron!” she cried out, bolting from the bed to stop him, unsure of what to say or do, but unwilling to let him go.  “Please.”

 

He spun back on her so fast she jerked, his creased brow and torrid expression almost frightening.  Hermione nearly cringed when he sucked a sharp breath through his nose, his jaw tight and eyes blazing. 

 

“What do you want me to say, Hermione?”  He moved toward her and she couldn’t help but back up in response.  “Do you want me to tell you that you did the right thing?  Well, you didn’t!  Look what it did to you?  Were you even thinking of the baby?”  

 

Her knees broke at the edge of the bed and she fell back on the mattress as he continued to advance.  His large palms landed on the bed on either side of her as he continued.

 

“This is my baby, too, and I can’t do a DAMN thing about the way you’re acting.  How do you think that makes me feel?”  He brought himself nearly nose to nose and remained there, Hermione hiccupping through her tears.  She could sense the battle he was having with his own resolve.  His breath blew hard on her with undisguised anger and resentment as he pushed off the mattress.

 

With one large stride he turned his back on her, but rotated back just as quickly.  However, this time his eyes appeared glassy.  “Do you want me to say I’m sorry for sleeping with you in the first place?”  The question was sobering like a swift kick in the gut.  “DO YOU?”

 

Hermione shook her head vigorously, tendrils of hair coming free and falling into her face, her blurry eyes still blazing in terror and pain.  

 

“Because, I’m not!  It was the most wonderful moment of my LIFE!”  His fist slammed into the wall next to her bed and she flinched at the impact.  The furniture began to tremble as he paced the room frantically, now shaking his injured hand, his voice booming to fill the flat.  

 

“Maybe you want to hear that it’s alright that I’m walking around with an aching heart, living with a woman who’s carrying my baby and clearly wants to be with another MAN!  DAMMIT, Hermione!  I’m sorry, but I can’t say that!”

 

He turned his back to her, wiping his eyes across a sleeve as he dug his fingers into the door frame, his now appraised knuckles nearly white with anger.  

 

Hermione was sure her heart had stopped.  She felt paralyzed, almost too shocked to cry anymore, struggling to absorb everything he said.  She had never seen him this angry, this upset.  Such a reaction had never been imagined in any of her late night practice ramblings.  

 

The air nearly crackled with the threat of finality – one wrong move and he’d be gone.  The idea of speaking absolutely terrified her and yet to say nothing could mean tragic results.  She opened and closed her mouth several times before a sound issued forth and it was broken by sobs and choppy gasps of breath.

 

“I don’t want to be with Draco.  I…may have been a…a bit naïve in thinking that he only wanted friendship, but my…my intentions toward him have never been any…th….thing but that of…a friend.  You have to believe me.”

 

Ron remained with his back to her, but turned his head slightly and nodded – at least acknowledging that he had heard her.  

 

He wiped his face once more, his hand falling weakly to his side, still turned away from her.  “I don’t know, Hermione.  I just don’t know.”  She made a move to get up from the bed, but his words stopped her again.  “Get some sleep. Dinner will be ready in a little while.”

 

And he left.

 

She ran to the door just as it closed in her face.  The slam stopped her from going further and she slid down the wall, sobbing out several rounds of “I’m sorry.”  After a long cry – this one much louder for she no longer cared to hide her pain - Hermione fell asleep on the floor, waking later in her bed with a tray of food on the side table.  Resting comfortably against her pillow, she realized that he had come back.  More importantly, he had moved her carefully into bed, gently enough for her to sleep through the move.

 

Somehow that knowledge was more comforting than she could imagine.  Her face felt swollen as she grabbed a tissue to blow her nose.  Truthfully, hunger wasn’t a motivating factor as she stared at the tray, but rather Ron’s words about taking care of the baby still rang in her ears and she ate a bit before falling asleep again.

 

The next day they functioned in almost complete silence.  Ron left early, never telling her where he was going or when he was coming back.  It might have been her imagination, but the door seemed to close a bit louder than usual, Ron’s gait looked a bit stiffer.  The idea of speaking mortified her even more as if it might make things worse.  She wanted to talk things out, but if they got into another shouting match, she feared he would end it all right then and there. 

 

The more she dwelled on her misery, the more intense it became.  Her mind cycled through her memories like little vignettes of catastrophe, past friends and acquaintances inconsolable after experiencing their own breakups and failed romances.  That could be her.  She desperately didn’t want to be that girl, the one crying hysterically because she had lost her love.   Normally, that kind of behavior befuddled her, but feeling as she did at the moment, her sympathies went out to every broken hearted woman around the globe.

 

Adding to her disconsolation was the vision of her as a single mother, toting around a baby without a father, or even worse, a cold-hearted father who adored his baby and despised her with such loathing that…well, it was to awful to think about it any longer.  Hermione handily depleted another box of tissues over the next hour and finally crawled into bed.

 

*** 

 

Harry had been in meetings and training most of the day.  Standing in the kitchen at Grimmauld, he was hungry, tired and sweaty and only wanted to get a shower and crash.  But, all plans for a peaceful evening were thwarted with a loud crack and the drum of heavy footsteps marching toward the dining room.

 

Following to investigate, he found a very agitated Ron, looking through various cabinets and mumbling to himself.  “I knew that git was up to something.”

 

“Hey, mate, what‘re you looking for?”

 

“I just know he did something.  I know it!”

 

“Um…Ron…who are you talking about?”

 

“Bloody stinking Ferret Boy, that’s who!”  He slammed another door shut, looking frustrated at not finding whatever it was he was looking for.

 

“Alright.  So, what did he do?”

 

“What didn’t he do!  You were there.  He’s conspiring with Death Eaters and who knows what else!  Isn’t that enough?”

 

“Um…did we listen to the same conversation?”

 

Harry halted as Ron turned into his path.  “What?  Don’t tell me you believe him?  He’s not all that innocent, you know.”  

 

“Well, it’s not like he knew that we were spying on him.  I don’t think he decided to just make up some false story on a whim.  ‘Gee, on the off-chance that the Order of the Phoenix might be listening in, perhaps I should lie.’”

 

“You’re a laugh riot, you know it, Harry?” 

 

“And you’re jealous.”

 

“What?”  Ron quickly opened the cabinet, pushed aside a vase and withdrew a half-full bottle of Firewhisky before starting toward the stairs.

 

Harry continued in pursuit.  “You forget, I was there at Draco’s flat.  I saw the way you acted.”  Ron began taking the steps two at a time, but Harry gave chase.  “If I hadn’t been there with you, I think you might have pounded on him for a few hours, ripped his limbs from their sockets and then cursed his broken bones just for good measure.”

 

Ron paused, one hand ready to push the bedroom door open and glared at him so intensely, Harry thought that blue laser beams from some sci-fi movie were about to shoot from his eyes.  Finally, Ron glanced away, but mumbled under his breath.  “He’d ‘av deserved it.”  And he removed the bottle top and took a swig, nearly gagging as the liquid burned his throat.

 

“And when the hell did you start drinking?”

 

Ron entered the room he sometimes shared with Harry and sat down on the floor, using the mattress for a backrest.

 

He coughed, his eyes watering slightly at the shock of the liquor.  “What does it matter?”

 

“It matters.  Now, give me that.”  Harry swiped the bottle from Ron’s hand, noting the scrapes across his knuckles.  The withdrawal of his only means of comfort didn’t seem to sit well with his agitated friend.  Only Harry’s quick reflexes saved him from an almost certain game of keep away – one he was sure he would have lost without the barrier he just erected between them.

 

“Give it back.”  Ron looked more desperate than angry.

 

“No.  You’re being childish and stupid.”

 

“Yeah?  Well, you’re a lousy friend, now that’s a new development.”

 

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, the shield still in place, although Ron had now retreated to the other side of the room, pacing.

 

“What…now you’re stealing lines from Muggle war movies?”

 

“So what if I am…Hermione has that DVD thing and I’ve been sitting at her flat a lot.  Besides, it’s appropriate to the conversation.”

 

“And what conversation is that?  This isn’t a conversation, Ron, this is just you being a pain in the arse and me listening to your shite.  I know you hate the bloke, but he didn’t do anything to you.  But, go ahead…I’d rather have you dump it all on me than on her.  I’m not pregnant and miserable and jobless and I can think of a million other things.”

 

“He did something to _her_ and that’s just as bad.  Besides, I didn’t dump on her.  I’ve barely spoken to her, well…except yesterday when I did sort of go off the deep end.”  Ron had the good grace to look a bit guilty.

 

“What did you do?”  Harry squinted with obvious concern.

 

“She tried to apologize.”  He leaned against the wall beside the bed examining his knuckles.

 

“For what?”

 

“For lots of things.  For running off and Apparating.  Hell, some of ‘em didn’t even make sense.  Harry, all I could think about was how I was losing her to that twit Malfoy!  It just made me so damn angry.  I kind of unloaded on her.  I didn’t mean to and…oh, hell, Harry, she cried all night and I felt like such a complete arse.  God, I hate it when she cries.”  Slowly, he slid down the wall.  “I couldn’t face her, I couldn’t talk to her.  I just needed to leave.”

 

“So you decided to drown your troubles in some Firewhisky?”

 

“Bloody hell, Harry…what do you want me to do?”

 

“ _I_ don’t want _anything_ from you.  I’m not the one who needs you.”  Silence.  Ron’s arms dangled from his bent knees, his eyes shifting uncomfortably.  Harry thought hard of what he could say or do to help.  He certainly didn’t want to make things worse.  “You know…when you have this baby, life doesn’t just go back to how it was before.  This is…this is the rest of your life.  You have to make things work.  Even if Hermione made some bad judgments, she did apologize.  I can’t believe that she did any of this to intentionally hurt you.”

 

Ron gazed at him for a moment.  “You sound like my dad.  When the hell did you start sounding all mature and wise?”

 

“Now who’s being a laugh riot?  Me?  Wise?  I don’t think so, but I do recognize when my friends are hurting.”  Harry lifted the shield and carefully set the bottle on the bedside table.  “Talk to me.”  He walked over and sunk down beside his best mate.  “What’s really going on?  Something else is bothering you.  I know that look too well.”  

 

Ron’s jaw shifted and he inhaled a couple of times as if about to speak.  Harry waited patiently until Ron finally worked up his nerve.

 

“Harry, you don’t think…I mean…Hermione was probably really messed up, you know?  What if she was passed out and he did something…”

 

“Did something?”  Harry swallowed with some difficulty, knowing what Ron was implying, but feeling all too uncomfortable to actually speak it.  “Ron…look…I’m on your side, okay?  I just want to make sure you know that, but I really don’t think Draco would…I mean wouldn’t Hermione know?”

 

“I don’t know.  I-I guess she would.”

 

“Well, did you ask her?”

 

“She just says that he took care of her.”

 

“Well, then he did.  Hermione wouldn’t cover up for him.  Not for that.”  Harry thought that was pretty cut and dry.  Hermione wouldn’t lie about something so serious.

 

“She wants me to trust her…and I do.  But then why does she go to see him and not tell me?  She says they’re just friends, but I just don’t trust him and so, sometimes I feel like I don’t believe her because she knows how I feel about him and...then I just feel guilty for not believing _her_!”

 

Harry nodded, but sensed there was more to come and found himself content to just lend an open ear.

 

“When she left…it was like…like watching my whole future just disappear.  I kept picturing myself alone and miserable, or having her bring the baby for monthly visits, but absolutely detesting the sight of me.  She wouldn’t talk to me.  She just avoided me and then started biting my head off for no reason!”

 

“Sounds like exactly the same thing you just did to her.”

 

For the first time during their conversation, Ron’s eyes met his.  Harry could see straight through the watery blue to the agonizing reality that Ron had just discovered.  He blinked once and looked away.  “I did, didn’t I?  Oh, shite, I really screwed up.”

 

Harry reached up to squeeze his shoulder, in as much a comforting gesture as encouragement.  “You were just upset.  She’ll understand.  It’s not too late.  You can fix this.”

 

“What if I can’t?”

 

“Go to her.”

 

*** 

 

Hermione awoke, sometime in the middle of the night, her mind doing a deja vue when she realized a warm body lay behind her, an arm encircling her middle.  She rolled immediately, wanting to confirm what her heart so desperately hoped for.  The scent was unmistakable.

 

“Ron?” she whispered, her eyes dilating to adjust for the darkness.

 

“Shh.  Go back to sleep.” 

 

He was there.  Beside her.  She couldn’t help herself and stroked the hair back from his face tenderly, desperate to touch him, to know he was real.  “Ron…I’m so sorry.  I want to be with you…please…”

 

His eyes remained closed as he whispered back.  “I know.  I’m sorry, too.  Please don’t cry anymore, ‘Mione.”  She felt his hand caress her face, a thumb brushing gently over her cheek.  “I won’t leave you, love.”

 

*** 

 

Morning was like the dawn of a new life for Hermione.  She smiled finding him beside her, still dressed and lying on top of the blanket, snoring softly with an occasional twitch.  One hand draped over her hip.  The joy of having him back nearly brought her to tears again, but she pushed them back and scooted out of bed to shower and make breakfast for him for a change.  

 

He ate heartily and they exchanged some pleasant and even laughter-filled conversation over breakfast before Hermione announced she wanted to go back to work.

 

With all the dignity she could muster, she walked back into the Ministry and asked for her job back.  Luckily, the position was still open as none of the candidates they interviewed had Hermione’s qualifications.  They took her back in a heartbeat.  Being gainfully employed and feeling useful once again, seemed to draw Hermione out of her slump and she once again appeared her normal, bookish and helpful self.  Evenings were spent working with Bill when he was at the Burrow or looking into horcrux ideas for Harry.  Ron lectured her repeatedly on the stupidity of her actions, but now his words took on a loving connotation and she smiled a bit more often as he still grumbled over her actions.

 

A large Order meeting was scheduled for mid-October and Bill and Hermione were working hard, trying to get more information to share for this meeting.

 

Sitting at the kitchen table at Grimmauld one night, a myriad of scrolls and books littered the table.  It was a typical evening, full of the usual mish mash of conversations and research, people coming and going, organized chaos at its best with Molly cleaning up from dinner as Ron and Harry entered in mid sentence.

 

“…but he isn’t cooperating, Ron.  Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

 

“He didn’t come right out and say ‘bugger off’ to the guy.  So, how do you know he’s not considering it?”  Ron walked over to his Mum and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Hey, Mum.”

 

Hermione looked up from her writing.  “Who are you talking about?”

 

Molly smiled.  “Thank you, dear.  Well?”  She raised an eyebrow and threw her hand on her hip, staring at Harry.

 

Harry looked around, wondering what he had done, returning his gaze to Molly who finally answered the burning question.  “Do I get a kiss from my other boy?”

 

“Who are you talking about?”  Hermione asked again as Ron reached over to grab a biscuit from the plate on the table.  

 

Meanwhile, Harry planted a welcomed kiss on Molly’s other cheek.  She reached up with a motherly pat on his jaw.  “Have a biscuit, Harry, you’re much too thin,” and she returned to her cleaning.

 

“Oh, whoa!  I think we’ve done it!  Hermione, you’re a genius!”  Bill’s statement drew everyone’s attention as Hermione’s face lit up at his compliment.  He read off several pieces of parchment, his face similarly bright with anticipation:

  _She hath lost her love,_

_Tears rain from heavens,_

_Through prayers and tears,_

_For families, sisters._   

“Wha the hech os at ean?” came Ron’s question, his mouth full of chocolate biscuit.

 

Hermione frowned at him.  “Ronald.  Chew your food.”

 

Bill ignored them and continued. “That’s the first part of it.  There’s more.  It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but if we look at each line and try to compare it to the story, maybe we can find out something.  I’m not sure if this is supposed to just be part of the story surrounding this curse, or possibly some counter spell or a key.  It could be all or none of those things.”

 

Harry peered over Bill’s shoulder just as Ron slid onto the bench next to Hermione and, swallowing his biscuit, gave her a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Oh, Harry dear, I almost forgot.  This came for you at the Burrow today.”  Molly reached into her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope.  Harry had lost all ability to hide his expectant smile upon receiving the almost daily correspondence from Ginny.  Taking the letter from Molly, he grinned when she spoke very softly so that only he would hear.  

 

“Now, you go and write her back.  I think my daughter is rather sweet on you.”

 

Harry’s ears burned and he dropped his head, a bit embarrassed by her statement, but raised just his eyes to hers for a second.  “Yes, ma’am.”

 

“This is really fascinating stuff.” Bill interjected, pointing out another phrase to Hermione.

 

Molly essentially ignored Bill’s comments, her eyes still fixed on Harry.  “Hurry on then, Harry.  I’ll take it with me and send it off from home so she receives it tomorrow.”  Harry nodded and walked back to the gathering at the table.

 

Ron stretched.  “Oh, Merlin my legs ache!  That Bradford is a slave driver!”  Slouching down onto the table, his chin rested wearily on his crossed arms.

 

“Um… Bill, do you or Hermione need my help on this tonight?”  Harry tried to act casual, but everyone - well, maybe except Ron - could see the excitement as he stood trying to conceal the letter from Ginny.  Bill raised an eyebrow at Hermione to confirm her agreement, but she just shrugged.   

 

“No, Harry.  Why don’t you go answer that letter?  Ron’s here, he can help.”

 

“Hey!”  Ron complained as he raised his head off the table.

 

“Thanks.  See ya, mate.”  Harry smiled at Ron and took his leave, almost running down the hall, nearly crashing into Remus who was just coming in and heading to his room.

 

Ron slumped back down, this time letting out a large yawn.  Hermione was still in fine form, looking over Bill’s text and writing down key words on another piece of parchment.  Bill opened a huge tome, scanning several pages with the pad of his finger.  Molly hung her apron up and walked over to her eldest.  She kissed Bill on the head, fingering his ponytail.  “William.  This hair needs a trim.”

 

Bill just turned around to look at her.  “I love you, too, Mum.”  

 

She swatted him gently on the head, but enough that he got the message.  “Don’t get cheeky.”

 

“Yes, Mum.”  He turned back to the work at hand, appearing assured that his Mum would not get her way for the umpteenth time when it came to the length of his hair.

 

“Goodnight, Hermione.  Goodnight, Ronald.”  Molly offered smiles to both of them.

 

“Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley.”  Hermione smiled back and Ron muttered through heavily lidded eyes.  “‘Night, Mum.”

 

Molly shuffled off, leaving the remaining three in the kitchen.

 

“Bill, I think this means sorrow or grief.”  Hermione mumbled quietly to herself, interjecting various words into a phrase and finally speaking up.  “Mourn.  That’s got to be it.”

 

“Alright, then I think I have another line.”

 

  _Having mourned for years._

Hermione read the entire statement out loud again as Ron continued to yawn.  His eyes were closing as he rested his head on the table, but his sleepy voice cut in.

“The third and fifth lines go together.”

 

“What?”  Hermione asked and went back to review the text again.

 

“Through prayers and tears, having mourned for years.”  He opened one eye and looked at Hermione to make sure she understood.

 

“It does go together.”  She glanced at Bill who looked weary, rubbing his hands over his face and finally massaging his eyes.

 

“Make a note of that Hermione.  I think I’ll call it quits for tonight, take a fresh stab at it in the morning.”  Bill swung his legs over the bench.  “ ‘Night you two.”  He let out a yawn and shuffled down the hall.  Moments later they heard the door open and close.

 

Hermione read the parable one more time to herself and smiled back at Ron who appeared nearly asleep on the table.  She pushed the stack of parchment to the side and reached out to put a hand on his arm.  “Ron?”

 

“Hmm.”  He looked exhausted and she knew that the physical part of his academy training was tiring for both he and Harry.  She wanted to talk, but he looked so peaceful.

 

“Never mind.”  She reached out and stroked the hair back from his face, loving how silky it felt in her hand.  There was no doubt; he had been attentive and caring toward her without end ever since he found out about his impending fatherhood.  She couldn’t fault him in the least, but she had nagging doubts about the other, more intimate, side of their relationship.

 

She hadn’t been with Ron, not that way, since July.  In fact, they’d only made love three times total.  He kissed her and hugged her and yes, he was finally sleeping with her again, but it was always sweet, gentle, almost paternal.  The spark they had was no where to be found.  Now that she was feeling better, and they were on solid footing, she wanted that electricity between them, that passion that had brought them to this reality in the first place.  She missed it and in the past few weeks, the longing had turned into self-doubt. 

 

She started to associate his lack of attention as her lack of desirability.  Now that she was with child, he didn’t want her anymore, something that notched her self-esteem down a peg.  The more she thought about it, the deeper she sunk until she found herself in tears _.  I am such an emotional wreck!  How does he even stay with me?_   One slid down her cheek and landed with a soft ‘plop’ onto the table.  She pulled her hand out of his hair and swiped at her eyes, sniffing back what she hoped wouldn’t become another nightly tear fest.

 

*** 

 

Of all the sounds in the world, the only one that shook Ron Weasley to the core was that of Hermione in distress.  A single sniffle, deep breath, sigh or choked up voice brought him to immediate attention and his focus all turned toward making things better.  He knew each and every time that she had sobbed quietly in her room.  It made his chest ache.  The night after their big blow up, her cries filled every corner of the flat and Ron drenched his own pillow on the sofa.  So, when he heard that single tear hit the table, his eyes both opened.  The fact that she had just withdrawn her hand from his hair also caught his attention and he reached out to place a soothing hand on her arm, his thumb running gently over the soft skin he found there.

 

“’Mione.  What’s wrong, luv?”  He lifted his head, looking fully at her as she wiped away another tear.

 

“Ron.  I know I’ve been a mess lately.  Between puking and crying, I’m not really all that much to look at and then, of course, my temper as of late has left little to be desired.  So, I understand if you don’t want to.”

 

“Want to what, Hermione?”

 

“I just…I just need to know…why don’t you want to make love to me anymore?  Is it because you don’t trust me anymore?  Or, is it this swollen stomach?  I’m ugly now, aren’t I?”

 

“What?  You’re not ugly.”  He reached over, taking both of her hands in his.  “You are absolutely beautiful.  Why would you ever think that about yourself?”

 

“Have you found someone else?”  Her statement was blunt and she stared at him, her eyes rimmed red.  “Because if you’re only doing this for the baby…”

 

Ron had to shake his head to make sure this wasn’t a dream, because her questions were shocking.

 

“Absolutely not!”  He took her hand in both of his.  “Hermione.  I told you back in the spring that you are my one and only.  That hasn’t changed, even when we weren’t speaking to each other.  There’s never been another.”  He kissed her hand.  “I love you and I love our baby.”  One hand slipped down to land on her waist.

 

“But you don’t want me that way anymore.”

 

“Of course I do!  I want you all the time!  I just don’t want to hurt you.  You were sick for a long time there and then you went and exhausted yourself at Malfoy’s place and I didn’t want to drain anymore of your energy.”

 

“And then you were mad at me and then you hated me all because Draco wanted to make love to me.”

 

Ron’s stomach dropped to his feet, along with all of his blood flow which then raced furiously to his face.  “He WHAT?”

“Shh!!”  

 

“Don’t shush me, Hermione.  I knew it!  What did he do to you?  Did he..?  I’ll kill the bastard!”

 

“Ron, no.  No!  He didn’t do anything.  He just said I was sexy and he wanted to.  I-I must admit it felt so good to have someone say that, but he wasn’t the person I wanted to hear it from.”

 

Ron pulled back as if he had been slapped.  He let go of her completely, his head falling back in defeat.  His emotions were swirling faster and faster, his mind trying to play catch up as he considered what she had just said.  He mentally repeated what he had read – ‘women suffer from wide ranging mood swings, their hormones taking them on wild rides’ – and thanked Healer Toby Westbrook from _How to Charm Your Pregnant Witch_ for his wise words of counsel.  Right now, they were the only thing that made sense.  Eyes now closed, he pulled in a deep breath through his nose, but before he could even exhale, she continued.

 

“I told him that I loved you and I couldn’t be with him.”

 

Ron’s head rolled to the side, looking at her with a new wave of affection as the air rushed out of him.

 

She squeezed his arm.  “I only wanted to be with you.  I still do, but I understand if you don’t want to...”

 

Ron’s old insecurities were knocking on the door, but her warm hand saved him from despair.  She still wanted him. He felt wonderful again, his anger fading into the background.  He sat back up, tilting her chin toward him and leaning down until she looked into his eyes.

 

“Hermione, I love you with all my heart.”  He kissed her gently.  “I think you are beautiful and sexy and bloody brilliant in everything.  I want you so much!”  He leaned over the scrolls and the biscuits and kissed her, ignoring the rattle of two tea cups.  Only five more months to go.  Ron prayed he’d survive it.

 *** 

The next day, Harry was pulled into a different group in training.  Ron was tasked with another round of surveillance and he decided to go back to Malfoy’s office and find out if Mr. Garner would return.  Taking the extendables again, he took the same route as the day before and set himself up near the window, waiting.  Around noon, he heard the door open, but this time it was two sets of footsteps.  Ron activated a quick quotes quill that would record everything that was said in the room, one of the few things they had found useful from Rita Skeeter’s arsenal.

 

“Mr. Garner.  I see you’ve brought a guest with you.”  

 

“Have you had a chance to think about my offer?”

 

“I’m afraid it wasn’t much of an offer, but rather sounded more like a threat.  I’m a business man, I work with investments, I do NOT work with threats.”

 

“Perhaps you misunderstood me.  I would never threaten anyone.  I simply pointed out that your help in this matter would be looked upon favorably by a certain wizard to whom we all share a great deal of loyalty.”

 

There was shuffling of feet and a chair scraping against the floor.  Then something slapped down hard on a desk or table.  Ron dared to raise his head and peak over the edge of the window and saw the tip of a wand pointed directly at Draco’s chest.  He ducked back down quickly.

 

“This shipment of antiques is coming in tomorrow.  Payment, in Muggle money, needs to be made to the address listed.  My account at Gringotts should not show any transactions pertaining to this payment.  Instead, my account will show a payment to your investment firm, opening my new account and expanding my…portfolio.”

 

There was silence for a moment and some more movement.  The door opened.  “I’ll expect a statement confirming my new account within a week.”  The door slammed shut.  Ron drew the extendables away quickly, tucking them into the rucksack he was carrying, cancelled the quick quotes quill and Apparated away.

 

*** 

 

That night Hermione prepared a nice dinner and took some time putting her hair up and dressing in a low-cut red dress.  It was getting a big snug across her stomach, but she put it on anyway, realizing that Ron’s eyes would be drawn to the neckline, not the rest of her.

 

When he got home, he looked very tired, but put on a smile as soon as he saw her standing in the kitchen.  “Wow.  You look nice tonight.”

 

She walked over, pushing a small piece of crusted bread and butter into his mouth.  “Thank you.”  She turned, walking away slowly, knowing full well that he was watching her hips as she swayed.  Glancing over her shoulder, she asked “Hungry?”

 

She noticed that he nodded, still chewing and watching her very closely as she turned back to stir the sauce.  “Why don’t you light the candles?”

 

Ron did as instructed and then walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzling into her neck.  “What’s the occasion?”

 

“I’ll tell you in a little while.  Let’s just enjoy our dinner.”  He let go as she untied her apron and turned, handing him a platter of chicken.  He took it to the table, seeing a bottle of wine sitting on the table.  “Um…Hermione?  You know you shouldn’t drink, right?”

 

“I know.  I’m just having juice, but there’s no reason you can’t enjoy the wine.”

 

She walked over with the rest of the food and he pulled out the chair for her and then took his own.  The dinner was delicious, but Ron kept watching her for most of the meal, wondering what big news Hermione had to share.  They chatted about the days’ events first, eventually transitioning into Order business and Ron mentioned his surveillance from that afternoon.

 

“Speaking of….Draco came to visit me today.”

 

It was a good thing he had already swallowed his mouthful of food, for his throat almost closed up.  “What did he want?” he growled.

 

“He came to ask for our help with something.”

 

“Our help?”

 

“The Order’s help.  Now before you go off, just listen.  Yes, he knows about the Order and no, I didn’t tell him anything, but he just assumed that we were members.”

 

“So what does he want help with?”  His tone showed his obvious disdain.

 

“Ron, I know you dislike him and, aside from our history, I’m not asking you to be his best mate or anything, but you really have to start giving him the benefit of the doubt.  He’s not working with the Death Eaters.  He doesn’t want anything to do with them.  Why do you think he went out and got himself a flat instead of moving into one of his family’s estates?  He’s trying to pull away from his father.”

 

“From what I heard today, he’s still quite involved and you can just bloody well stay away from him.”

 

“No, that’s where you are wrong.  He told me what’s going on and said he needs help.  He’s very worried of what will happen if he doesn’t do as he was asked.”

 

“He actually came to you to discuss what happened today?”

 

“Yes, Ron.  Purely as a friend.  He didn’t even look at me funny.  Not even a handshake.  Please.  We have to try and help him.  He can be trusted.  I know it.”  She reached over, laying her hand on his arm.

 

Ron let out a large sigh, looking at her pleading expression.  “Alright.  Let’s tell Remus and Harry and see what they say.”

 

“Thank you, Ron.”  She jumped up and placed a kiss on his cheek.  “I’m going to get the pudding.  Why don’t you take your wine and my tea into the living room?”

 

A few minutes later, they were enjoying their dessert in front of a roaring fire that Ron had started.  Hermione took Ron’s empty plate and set it on the table, kicked off her red heels, curling her toes into the carpet for a moment before climbing up onto the sofa next to Ron.

 

Ron raised his arm so that she could snuggle in to his side.  “So, are you going to tell me why you just made this wonderful dinner for me and why you are wearing that drop-dead gorgeous dress that you had better not wear for anyone else or I’ll have to gouge their eyes out?”

 

She giggled at his statement and then reached over to take his other hand and pulled it toward her stomach.  She pressed her hand over the top of his.  “I felt our baby move today.”

 

“You did?”  She felt him press his hand a tiny bit closer to her.  “That’s so cool.”

 

Keeping his hand on her stomach, he shifted toward her and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss.  “So, what does it feel like?”  He moved his kisses to her jaw and trailed up toward her ear.

 

“It’s like little butterflies in my stomach.  Sort of like the ones you’re giving me at the moment.”  He pulled back, looking at her glowing expression and got a sudden urge.  She didn’t seem happy when he untangled himself and crossed to a table near the fireplace.  However, after he turned on the CD player, one of the few Muggle devices that Hermione had taught him how to use, she got the idea.  As he walked back toward her, he held out his hand, the soft music starting up as he did.  “Dance with me?”

 

Her smile widened and she took his hand to join him in the center of the room.  He enclosed her small hand in his and drew it toward his chest; his other reached round to her back and pulled her in close.  They swayed like that for some time with Ron rubbing little patterns onto her back and kissing her head once or twice as she rested against him.

 

After several songs, Hermione was feeling extremely relaxed and very safe.  Something urged her to speak and she looked up at him.  “I love you, Ron.”

 

He fixed his gaze on her, reading the sincerity in her eyes and swallowed hard as he considered what he wanted to ask her.  Again.  “Then marry me, Hermione.”

 

This time, instead of getting upset and storming off, Hermione just smiled at him before pursing her lips and looking away for a second before looking back at him.

 

“I’ll think about it.  I really will.”


	26. Chapter 26 - Coming to an Understanding

 

True to his word, Ron spoke to the Order members about Draco the very next day and they made contact with Draco, offering to help him.  In return, they wanted to know what information he could provide to them.  Despite his serious attempts to distance himself from his father and his cronies, Draco was still privy to certain information, the kind that given to the proper people could cause a great deal of damage to Voldemort’s whole operation.

 

Draco thought long and hard about whether to tell the Order what he knew, but in the end he was just so grateful for their help and specifically, for Hermione’s intervention that he knew he had to give something of value in return.  So, when he found out that a group of Death Eaters were planning an attack on a prominent Muggle home along the sea, Draco decided to speak up.  All pretenses aside, Draco showed his true colors that day, directing a group of Order members to the exact location of the planned attack. 

 

Not willing to divulge any more Order information, they decided to meet just outside of Draco’s office and go from there.  When Ron told Hermione about their mission, she became very concerned and made him promise to be careful and to look after Draco as well.  Ron rolled his eyes at that last request, but agreed with her, not wanting to upset her anymore than she already was.  She owled Draco and asked the same of him, to be careful and look out for Ron. 

 

They Apparated to a location just beyond the estate’s borders, in a clearing near a tree line that offered some protection.  Ron, Draco, Harry, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Kingsley and another person whom Draco did not know, all made their way surreptitiously through the grounds to the house, breaking up into smaller groups.  Draco had told them about a secret entrance to the house, a cave that spanned the beach, burrowing through the hillside and into the back terrace adjacent to the kitchens.  Ron and Draco were to follow this entrance while the others moved to the front.  Making their way around the side of the house, they spotted two robes figures heading in the same direction.  Ron’s distrust of Draco was giving way to a small ounce of respect and belief in the man.  Starting to believe that Draco might have a drop of decency in him, Ron nodded at him and followed warily as they approached the cave’s entrance, following the footprints of the Death Eaters before them.

 

The cave was quite dark, requiring one of them to use their wand for light as they navigated the narrow passageway, all the time listening for any movement ahead of or behind them.  They started to hear voices and recognized that they were nearing the house when there was an earth shattering explosion.  The boom echoed through the cave and the rocky floor shook as the earth and stone above them started to crumble.  Ron did the only thing he could think of and threw up a shield spell just as a large portion of the cave’s ceiling came down around them.  The last thing he heard was Draco’s cry of pain and then all went black.

 

*** 

 

Ginny sat straight up in her four-poster bed.  Her heart was beating in her throat as she felt a surge of energy rush through her.  She thought for a moment she had been dreaming, but couldn’t sense any memory of a dream.  It was something else.  Something was wrong.  Pulling the curtains back, she glanced about her dorm room and saw that all was quiet, but again, something was pulling her, telling her to take action.  Moving on instinct, she grabbed her robe, donned some slippers and made her way to Professor McGonagall’s office.  After trying a password, pounding on the door, pacing and finally yelling with no response, she gave up and headed to Professor Flitwick’s quarters.

 

_Something happened to Harry.  I know it.  I need to get to him_.  Her incessant banging finally brought the professor to his door.

 

“Ms. Weasley?  What’s going on?”

 

“I’m sorry, Professor.  I tried to get Professor McGonagall, but she won’t answer.  Something’s wrong.  I think Harry is hurt or something.  I need someone to check for me.  Please.  Please, you have to help.”

 

“Calm down, Ms. Weasley.  Professor McGonagall is out for the night on some business; however, I can make some inquiries for you.”

 

Ginny continued to pace, alternately chewing on a finger nail and playing absentmindedly with her hair.  Her agitation seemed to grow as the seconds ticked.

 

“Why don’t you return to your Common Room and I will check and get back to you.”

 

“Can’t I please just wait here?  Please.  I need to get to him.”  

 

Flitwick could see her angst increasing and decided that she might do something rash, if he wasn’t careful.  “Alright, please come in and sit down.”

 

She walked in quickly, taking a seat on a nearby upholstered chair, still fidgeting as she waited.  Flitwick disappeared into his office to make a Floo call and returned about five minutes later.

 

“Ms. Weasley.  I’ve made contact with your parents.  They are not aware of any problems, but said that Harry was on a mission and they would check immediately to see if there was a problem.  They advised you to stay put until you hear back from them.”

 

“What kind of mission?  Was it dangerous?”

 

“I don’t know, my dear.  I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.  Now, please, have a cup of tea.”  He conjured up a silver service and began pouring both of them some hot tea as they sat to wait.

 

*** 

 

Harry coughed.  The dust and smoke around him was thick, making it difficult to breathe.  As he surveyed his surroundings, he realized everything was blurry until a hand held up his glasses before his face.  He coughed out a thank you and put them on.  Tonks was kneeling beside him, waving at the cloud in front of her and attempting to stand up.

 

“You alright?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, I think so.  You?”

 

“Oh, Merlin!  Harry.  Don’t move.”  He was still on his back, but attempting to sit up.

 

“What?”

 

Tonks looked pale with definite fear in her eyes.  A large wooden beam had fallen from the ceiling, along with what appeared to be the upstairs bedroom furniture and a large portion of it was lying across Harry’s ankle and foot, leaving it turned at a very odd angle.  She rushed over to try and lift the debris off of him and Harry followed her with his eyes, finally noticing that he was unable to move his left leg.

 

“Hang on, Harry.  I’ll get this off.  Damn it, where’s my wand?!”  Tonks searched the floor for her wand as she manually tried to lift the edge of the bed frame off of him.

 

“Tonks.”  His voice sounded a bit numb as if trying to understand something unimaginable.  “It doesn’t hurt.  Why doesn’t it hurt?  You’d think I’d be in a lot of pain right now.”

 

“Oh, no.”  She started yelling for help and lifting with all her strength.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asked, finally searching for his own wand so that he could help her levitate the beam. 

 

Kingsley stumbled in a second later.  “Tonks?!”

 

“Over here.  Help me get this off of him.  He can’t feel his foot!”

 

Kingsley did have his wand and he started to clear the heavy weight off of Harry.  When everything had been lifted, Tonks rushed to Harry’s side.  “Don’t move.  You might have a spinal cord injury.  That’s why you can’t feel your foot.”  She looked over her shoulder.  “Kingsley, we need to get a healer.  NOW!”

 

Kingsley turned to leave, but Harry stopped him.  “Wait.  Wait.  I really don’t think I’m hurt.”

 

“What?! Look at your foot, Harry!”  They all looked back at the mangled form on the end of his leg and their eyes grew wide as it slowly twisted back into its normal shape and realigned itself with his leg.  A second later, he flexed his foot, testing his ankle and sensing that it felt fine; he rolled onto his knees and stood up.

 

“Merlin, Harry.”  Tonks’ face was ashen, her mouth hanging open in surprise.  Harry couldn’t sense Kingsley’s reaction quite as much, but his eyes appeared very large.

 

“I – I can’t believe it.  Your foot was crushed.  How…how did you do that?”  She stood up herself.

 

Harry didn’t know what to say, but he was saved from any further discussion when they heard more moaning coming from what used to be the next room of the house.  All three of them started sifting through the debris looking for their friends and colleagues, instead first finding a robed figure, trapped under the broken pieces of a commode and sink from the upstairs loo.  He groaned in pain, unable to move.  

 

The search continued for the rest of their party, going room to room.  Kingsley, being in the best shape of them all, Apparated back to get help and soon the place was swimming with Aurors, taking the Death Eaters into custody and helping to locate the others.  After about twenty minutes, one of the Aurors whom Harry had only met briefly in the Academy, came up to him while exploring what used to be the kitchen.

 

“I have message for you, Harry.  Arthur Weasley asks if you’ll Apparate back to headquarters as soon as possible.”

 

“Ah, alright.  Thanks.”

 

Harry glanced around, not sure that he should leave, finally finding Mad-Eye nearby.  “Have you found everyone?  Where’s Ron?”

 

“I haven’t seen him, Harry, but a lot of people have been evacuated to a triage spot at the edge of the estate.  He’s probably out there.  I hear Arthur’s looking for you.  Why don’t you go.  We can finish up here.”

 

“Are you sure?  I mean about Ron?”

 

“Look.  I’ll check on Ron.  You go see Arthur.”

 

“Fine.”  Harry ran out of what remained of the house and made his way back toward the apparition point, disappearing with a crack and arriving back at Grimmauld.  As soon as he arrived, he started to call out for Mr. Weasley and soon found him in the kitchen, standing near the Floo.

 

“Mr. Weasley.  What do you need?”

 

“Harry.  I’m sorry to pull you away.  I know it’s a mess out there, but Ginny…”

 

“What’s wrong with Ginny?”  Harry’s heart flew into another panic.

 

“Nothing.  She’s fine son.  Well, not really fine.  She’s in an awful state, worrying about you.  Apparently something woke her and she got Flitwick out of bed to check on you.  She’s in his office waiting for news and she refuses to go back to her dorm until she can see you and verify that you’re safe.  I’ve got the Floo all set so you can go over and see her for a few minutes.”

 

He nodded, his heartbeat turning from a fast beat of panic to a fast beat of excitement.  He hadn’t seen Ginny since she returned to school.  They had only conversed through letters and despite the circumstances of the visit, he was still thrilled to have the opportunity to see her, even if briefly.

 

Stepping into the Floo, he called out Flitwick’s office and appeared a moment later on the hearth of one of the few places in Hogwarts that he had never visited personally.  Ginny left her perch on the edge of Flitwick’s high back chair and flew into Harry’s arms.  She wrapped herself around him tightly and refused to let go, burying her head in his chest.

 

He let out a thankful sigh as he returned the embrace, sweeping his hands down her long red tresses and pulling her close.  He never even noticed Professor Flitwick’s presence until he excused himself.

 

“I’ll just give you two a moment.  I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.” Flitwick disappeared through a nearby door.

 

The two of them stood like that for a good minute, neither speaking, both content with just holding each other tightly.  Finally, Harry heard a mumbled voice, speaking through his shirt.

 

“What, Gin?”

 

She pulled back, repeating herself.  “I said, I was so worried.  I woke up and I just knew something was wrong.”  She pushed off of him and started looking him over from head to toe.  “Are you alright?  You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”  Before he could even give her an answer, she wrapped herself back around him again.

 

“I’m fine, Ginny.  It’s alright.  I’m fine.”  He inhaled the wonderful smell of her hair and soaked in the warmth of holding her again.  “I’ve missed you, Gin.”

 

“I’ve missed you, too.  Are you sure you’re not hurt?  I’m not imagining this.  I woke up and I knew that you were injured.”

 

“Actually, there was this explosion and a large wooden beam landed on my foot, but after they cleared it away, it ends up that I was fine.  See?”  He motioned down to his foot, flexing it around to prove his point.

 

She sniffled and finally stepped back, wiping her eyes to regain her composure.  Harry wasn’t sure why, but he sensed that he should step back as well.  Now that her fears were allayed, the reason for their close contact was eliminated and Harry’s eyes immediately glanced to her robe-covered neck, still remembering vividly the pain he had inflicted on her just months before.

 

Harry was about to say something else when the Professor returned.  “Ms. Weasley, I think it’s about time you returned to your dormitory.”

 

 “Yes, sir.”

 

Flitwick turned his attention to Harry.  “Mr. Potter, I assume you are fine and Ms. Weasley just had a nightmare of sorts.”

 

“It wasn’t a nightmare, Professor.”

 

“Yes, I see.  Well, it appears that Mr. Potter is not injured and so, if you two don’t mind, I’d like to get back to sleep.”

 

“Yes, Professor.”  Harry continued.  “Could I have just one more minute, please?”

 

“Very well.  Ms. Weasley, if you could see yourself out and return directly to your dormitory, I would appreciate it.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Flitwick left again, this time shutting the door firmly behind him.  The fact that this was the first time in weeks they had been alone together, didn’t escape either of them.  Each wanted to express something to the other, but each knew that doing so would just make their eventual parting harder.  They stood gazing at each other, seemingly conveying their thoughts through eyes alone.

 

Finally, when the silence became to unbearable, Harry spoke.  “Well, I’d better get back. There’s still a mess at the site of the explosion and I need to help.”  He turned to grab the Floo powder.

 

“Harry.”  She took two rather large steps toward him as he stood at the edge of the hearth and grabbed his face in both hands, pouring her heart into a strong, but soft ten second kiss as the powder trickled from between Harry’s clenched fingers.  She stepped back, looking at him lovingly as her hand slid down his jaw to his chest and then back to her side.

 

She mouthed ‘I love you’ to him, aware that Flitwick was just on the other side of the door.  Harry gave her a small return smile and mouth back the same words, then threw the powder and called out ‘Grimmauld Place’ before disappearing with a flash of green flames.

 

*** 

 

“Weasley.  Weasley!”  The voice seemed insistent and Ron began to awaken.  The first thing he noticed was a terrible throbbing in his right arm as he started to take a mental inventory of himself.  He had a headache and it felt like a bruise on his hip, but otherwise, the only thing really hurting was his arm.

 

“Weasley.  Wake up!”  He tried to suck in a breath to answer, but the resulting dust cloud just produced a large cough, something that made him hurt even more.  This noisy response must have been enough to alert Draco to his consciousness who started in on full sentences.

 

“You alright?  Weasley, I need some help here.  Do you have your wand?”

 

_A wand?_   He started reaching around with his left arm, still lying flat on his back, searching for his wand.  “No.”  He coughed again.  “I don’t feel it.”

 

“Bugger.  I don’t know where mine is either and I can’t move.”

 

“What happened?” he asked, still lying flat and trying to survey his surroundings.

 

“It looks like there was an explosion and we’re sitting here trapped in the resulting mess.”

 

Ron tried to shift his weight, but the pain that coursed through his arm sent a large string of expletives from his mouth and he settled back down, breathing heavily.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“It’s my arm.”  He thought for a moment and realized Draco’s earlier comment.

 

“What do you mean, you can’t move.  Are you hurt?”

 

“Both of my legs are trapped under something heavy and yes, they hurt.  So, I assume that isn’t good news.”

 

“Can you hear anything or anyone?”

 

They both stopped to listen, but only heard the soft rustling of the dust and rock settling.

 

“No.  It’s a good thing you threw up that shield or we’d probably both be crushed.  It looks like most of the large stuff bounced off your shield and landed around us.”

 

Ron turned his head, deciding that he could at least look around without pain.  It was silent for a moment before Draco heard Ron muttering something.

 

“Care to repeat that?”

 

“I said, Hermione is going to kill me.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“I promised her I’d be careful and…”  It was clear he hadn’t finished his sentence.

 

“And what?”

 

“Look after you as well.”  Ron said with an obvious distaste in his mouth and rolled his head back the other direction.

 

“Yeah, well, she said the same thing to me.  So, what makes you think she won’t kill me as well?  Besides, it’s just a common request to tell someone to be careful before they leave you.  She doesn’t mean it, literally.”

 

“Really.  And what makes you think that?  Hermione doesn’t say anything without meaning it, literally.  She’s a very literal person.  Her words have great meaning and when she tells me to be careful and watch out for you and we return with broken arms and legs, I’m going to have a lovely hex to go with it.  I’ll probably be recuperating for weeks afterwards and not from the explosion!  You haven’t been living with a hormonally imbalanced woman.”

 

Draco still couldn’t see Ron from where he lay, but he decided that while he had a captive audience he would ask the burning question.  It’s not that he doubted Hermione, but he wanted to see what Ron’s reaction would be. “Is that baby really yours?”  

 

“Hell yes, it’s mine. Whose else would it be?”  His tone was threatening Draco to even make a suggestion in response and Draco took the hint and dropped it.  Silence remained for a minute as neither said a word, only an occasional cough interrupting the quiet.

 

Ron was the first to break the lull.  “How much air do you think we have in here?”

 

“No clue.  Not much we can do about it, especially not without a wand.  Unless, you know some wandless magic?”

 

“No.  That’s Harry’s department.”

 

“Really?  I didn’t know he was that strong.”

 

“There’s a lot about him you don’t know.  You’re not trusted enough to know.”

 

“Hermione trusts me.”

 

“That may be, but I think you’ve tried to misuse that trust once or twice.”

 

“I have not.  I don’t know what you’re referring to, but Malfoys do not go back on their word.”

 

“Oh, associating yourself with the family name again?”

 

“It’s a proud name, a pure-blood name going back for generations.  I have every right to be proud of my heritage, just as you do for yours.”

 

“If my father were Lucius Malfoy, I wouldn’t want to be parading my name around in association with his.”

 

“Oh, sure, so, if your dad were a Death Eater, you’d just call yourself Ron Smith or something?  Don’t be so naïve.”

 

“I’m just saying you don’t have to spout out that ‘Malfoys don’t go back on their word’ when you could just say that _you_ don’t go back on your word.  I’d believe that more than trying to believe your entire family’s lineage was pure of heart and noble in all their intentions.”

 

Ron heard a loud breath rushing out.  “Fine.  Have it your way.  _I_ never misused Hermione’s trust.”

 

“You knew she was weak and was at your place asking for help and yet…”  It pained him to even say the words, let alone think of their implications.  “you climbed into bed with her and told her you wanted to…um…do it with her.”

 

“If by ‘do it’ you mean, make love, then yes, I did want that.  You see, unlike your self, I’m bright enough to recognize the outstanding qualities in Hermione.”

 

“And dim enough to think you can have anything you want.  Hermione isn’t some commodity you can trade.  She made a choice based on a long established history with me, one that goes back long before you came into the picture.”

 

“I’ve known her for just as long as you have.”  Draco countered.

 

“Known her?  Not really.  You see, I liked her, considered her a friend, even when she was a bushy haired, annoying, know-it-all ten year old.  I recognized her ‘qualities’ as you put them, a long time ago.  You, on the other hand, only took to noticing her when she developed tits.”

 

“You are quite vulgar, aren’t you Weasley?  It really highlights your lack of breeding.”

 

“Breeding?  You make it sound like I came from a little of cats and I wouldn’t talk as your ‘breeding’ lacks a great deal in integrity, honesty, morals, loyalty…need I go on?”

 

“I find it quite the opposite.  Then how do you explain that Hermione likes me?”

 

“I’m not sure.  You’re a right bastard, if you ask me.”

 

“She wants me.”  

 

Those words were like a icy dagger shoved into Ron’s heart, something he always feared, but refused to believe could be possible.  But, he was already in the defensive state of mind, ready with a quick retort despite his fears.

 

“Whoa.  You can stop right there.  She does not want you.  You must really be lacking in the maturity department if you don’t know that you can’t make love to a woman unless you are actually ‘in love’ with her.  Otherwise, it’s just a shag, and I know she doesn’t want that.”

 

“Oh, I think she wants that very much.  She made that very clear and also that you weren’t living up to your responsibilities in that department.”

 

“What?  She said that?  She’s pregnant.  I’m not going to jump her, like you!”

 

“I didn’t ‘jump her’ as you put it and I wasn’t aware of her condition at the time.  And who says I’m not ‘in love’ with her?”

 

“Well, you’d better not be or as soon as I can get my hands on my wand, you won’t have to worry about having those urges ever again.”

 

“Is that a threat, Weasley?”

 

“Damn right!  She’s mine.  She’s carrying my child and we are in love.  I’m going to marry her and I’m certainly not going to let you stand in the way.  You had better get that through that thick skull of yours.  Is that a clear enough threat for you?”

 

Draco seemed to loose the steam in his argument.  “I wouldn’t worry about it.  She’s made it quite clear to me that she wants you, despite all my attempts to convince her otherwise.”

 

Ron considered this for a moment, enjoying the fact that Hermione had told him her preference for Ron, but then another thought came to him.  “Is that what happened when she was at your apartment?  Were you trying to seduce her?”

 

“Actually, I was a perfect gentleman.”

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

“What is it with you, Weasley?  Why can’t you take me at my word?  I’m being completely honest with you.”

 

“Then, tell me, honestly what happened that weekend.  If you have nothing to hide, then spill the beans.”

 

“Hermione didn’t tell you?”

 

“I didn’t ask.”

 

“More like you don’t trust her and was afraid to ask.  Afraid to find out the truth.”

 

“Truth?  So, what…now you’re going to admit that you did take advantage of her?  Oh, I can’t wait for this confession.  You’re just begging for a nice stay in Azkaban, aren’t you?”

 

“Do you really want to know what happened or are you too afraid to face it?”

 

“I have complete faith in Hermione and you will not be able to convince me otherwise so feel free to unburden your soul.”

 

Draco started to recount everything that had happened, but very factual, leaving out his feelings on the subject until he came to the part of that final night when he found out the truth.  He almost forgot that Ron was lying nearby listening to the story as he remembered those events.

 

“And then she just walked out of the room and stood in the hallway and looked at me.  She’s standing there, looking brilliant in the moonlight with my shirt on and just gazing at me and then she walked back in and left the door open.

 

I didn’t know at the time that she was hallucinating because of the baby and the effect of the earlier transfiguration.  So, I assumed she was inviting me in.  I wouldn’t have crawled into bed with her if I had known about it, but she even flipped the sheets back for me and she was so soft and warm and…”

 

 “That’s enough, Malfoy.  I don’t need you to describe my soon-to-be-wife to me and I certainly don’t want to know that you were touching her.” 

  _Bugger all to hell!_   

“Look.  The fact is that we both are in love with the same woman.  However, ultimately, it’s up to her to decide and it appears that she picked you.  Now, I may not be happy about this, but I do respect her decision.”

 

“Good,” Ron mumbled.

 

“You’re a lucky man, you know that?  I’m not sure why fate smiled on you, but she is an outstanding woman.  However, I have to tell you that if you do anything to hurt her, I will step in.  I will take action and I will protect her.”

 

“She’s not yours to protect.”

 

“Maybe not, but I’d still do it and I hope you understand that.”

 

“I don’t feel like I have to justify myself to you, Malfoy, but I’ll say this once.  Hermione is my life, she’s my family.  She’s MY outstanding woman.  We are a couple.  I will not let that be destroyed and I will not let this baby grow up without a loving family.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that.  So, we understand each other then?”

 

Just then they heard some rocks shifting and voices calling from nearby.  “Weasley!  Malfoy!  Are you in there?!”

 

“Yeah!  We’re both injured.  We can’t get out on our own.”

 

“Just stay still.  We’re on our way.”

 

Ron shivered and coughed out as more dust flew into the air from the resulting shift in the rocks.  The late October air in this damp cave was not comfortable.  He tried moving again and managed to sit up, yelling out in pain as he did.  Resting his back against the wall of the cave, he finally got a good look at Draco who was indeed pinned under some rather large debris.  It didn’t look good and for the first time, Ron actually felt a pang of sympathy for the man.

 

“Draco.  How are your legs feeling?”

 

“They’re actually kind of numb at this point.”  He paused as he replayed what he had just heard.  “Did you just call me by my first name?”

 

“Well, yeah, I guess I did.”

 

“What, are we going to become friends now?”

 

“I wouldn’t say friends, but maybe just not enemies.  I wouldn’t push it though.  I guess anyone showing such loyalty to Hermione can’t be all that bad.  I still don’t trust you completely.”

 

“Yeah, well, I guess I have to earn that trust.  Same goes for you.”

 

“Malfoy, I’m not out to get you.  I just want to live my life and raise my family in peace.  I’m not looking for a fight.  So, this is all up to you.  I’m not starting anything, I’m just hoping to help end it.”

 

All fell silent again, each of them examining the rock above them for lack of anything else to do.  It was bizarre, but Ron seemed to enjoy the conversation as it helped pass the time and with them so far apart and unable to face each other physically, they were forced to talk to each more than they had the entire course of their lives.  Hearing Draco recount the weekend with Hermione had been unsettling and yet eye opening.  For the first time, Ron considered that Draco might have an ounce of decency in him after all.

 

“Weasley?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you ever…regret befriending Potter, now that you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

 

“Hell, no.  Why, do you regret befriending Crabbe and Goyle?”

 

“Sometimes.”  Draco paused and Ron waited to see if he had more to say, but obviously he didn’t want to talk more on the subject.  Finally, Draco spoke up.  “Do you think they’re coming?”

 

“I’m not hearing anything at the moment, but I’m sure they’re working on it.  You hanging in there alright?”

 

“Yeah.  You?”

 

“Yeah, I’m good as long as I don’t move.”

 

Both of them released another few coughs from the dust and possibly from the fact that the oxygen levels in the cave were dwindling as time went by.

 

Ron glanced back over at him, only able to see the side of his face.  “You know, we could really help you if you’d work with us.  We could get rid of those guys coming to hassle you at your office.”

 

“That was the whole point of this little exercise, wasn’t it?”

 

“Well, true, but I’m saying that Harry and I could personally help you out.  That is if you’re really on Harry’s side.  You know your time has just about run out to pick sides, if that’s something you intend to do.”

 

“So, just how could you help me?”

 

They chatted a bit more, interrupted every few minutes by the shifting of more rock until the voices started to sound much closer.  Draco seemed truly interested in Ron’s plan and they paused once more as a ray of light finally broke through the rock.

 

Both of them let out a sigh of relief and then a small laugh as they both realized their salvation was at hand.

 

Just as a large boulder was being pushed out of the entrance, Draco spoke up.

 

“So, Weasley, how’s your investment portfolio?”

 

Ron smiled.

 


	27. Chapter 27 - Faulty Floo

  
Author's notes:

Thanks again to Indie for her kind beta assistance!

 

* * *

A few bottles of Skelegrow coupled with several days at St. Mungo’s left the two men feeling much better and unbelievably, they shared a room, something that Draco didn’t even complain about.  Harry visited them both, feeling very guilty for leaving to see Ginny when they were trapped in the cave.  He apologized to both of them, but neither seemed bothered by his actions.

 

Hermione flew in as soon as she found out and, as predicted, gave Ron an earful about being cautious, especially when there was a baby on the way.  She lectured him about how she wasn’t going to raise this child by herself and he had better start being more careful.  Draco grimaced while witnessing this exchange and actually flinched when she turned to him and waved a finger in his direction, like he was next on her list, but she just let out a huge, exasperated sounding growl and marched out of the room, leaving both men red-faced and embarrassed.  Ron and Draco exchanged some knowing looks upon her exit and Ron even smiled.  This was the real Hermione shining through and for the first time in months, her actions weren’t aimed at pushing Ron away; but on keeping him near.  When Draco woke from a nap later on, he found her sitting on the edge of Ron’s bed, speaking to him softly and smiling.

 

She explained to Ron how Bill had put together more of the puzzle and Bill asked if Ron would look at the resulting phrases again, something that Ron agreed to do as soon as he was released.  Harry informed Ron and Hermione that his scar had prickled not long after the explosion and he had a very clear sense that Voldemort wasn’t pleased.  What seemed unusual was the lack of pain this time.  It merely tickled, as if to alert Harry to its presence.  

 

Draco had to stay a day longer due to some nerve damage in his legs that was still healing.  Ron actually stopped back in to see Draco, a day after his release, Hermione in tow.  The two men spoke for a moment and shook hands as Hermione gave Draco a small kiss on the cheek and then took her leave with Ron, each man still looking at each other with the subtlest amount of smug contempt and each relishing in her attentions.

 

Draco had only been home a day.  Harry, with some Order help, had actually strengthened the wards around his flat and he felt more secure in his home.  However, two visits in one day brought Draco back to the real insecurity of his life.

 

After spending several days cooped up at St. Mungos, Draco craved a bit of fresh air and limped out to the patio behind his flat.  It was still well within the confines of the protective wards.  Not that he really had any immediate fears from intruders, but after his father’s recent unannounced visit, Draco had felt uneasy being home alone.  Despite the unusual circumstances of her visit, having Hermione at his flat for those two days impacted him in a way he never would have suspected.  He found that he enjoyed having someone living with him in his flat.  For the first time in his life, he saw the virtues of having some form of domestic life – a family, a spouse, maybe some children – well, some day.

 

Of course, any thoughts of including Hermione in the picture, however pleasant it sounded, was out of the question.  Draco finally began to feel at peace on the subject.  If it were just a matter of capturing Hermione’s heart, he would have continued with the hunt.  However, the conversation with Ron Weasley and the resulting armistice between them had given him a whole other set of thoughts.  Weasley actually had a back bone.  The little, poor freckled boy whom he used to love to step on, had cocooned into a fiercely protective man.  For a second Draco considered the size of the ginger-haired bloke and felt just the slightest hint of worry at finding himself on the receiving end of Weasley’s fist.  Coming out of his stupor, he shook his head to remove the image.  

 

  _I’m not weak._

Even without brute strength at the top of his list of qualities, he could still strike a blow if necessary.  He preferred, of course, to take his toll in a less physical way.

 

With that confident thought well in hand, he sat down on the patio, stretched out his sore leg and closed his eyes for a moment.  The air felt cool inflating his lungs.

 

 The conversation in the cave replayed in his mind.  _“Do you ever regret befriending Potter now that you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”_

_“No.”_   

The firmness and speed of his answer had surprised Draco.  There existed a true loyalty amongst those two, something that Draco found he rather respected.  Crabbe and Goyle weren’t loyal, they were stupid and greedy and a million other adjectives.  They definitely weren’t what he considered friends.  Hermione displayed true loyalty as did Potter and now…well…he could see why they were considered a trio.  Not only friends, but all shared similar virtues and values.  They complimented each other in a very unique way.

 

A loud bang snapped Draco’s heartbeat to full tilt.  A black-robed body picked itself up from just yards away – in fact, just beyond the spot of the wards.  Swinging the straight black hair from his face, Draco immediately recognized his former Potion’s Master.

 

“Snape?”

 

He didn’t look pleased.  “Well, well, Draco.  I see you’ve finally learned how to put up some wards that are actually up to the task.”

 

Snape poked his wand directly into the invisible wall, his lips twisting in delight as he appeared to test its strength.

 

“Very good.  I’m pleasantly shocked.  Perhaps someone was actually listening in class.”

 

“I assume you would like to come through?” Draco asked, trying to keep his tone from sounding too smug, although the fact that Snape couldn’t get beyond the wards left him with a great deal of satisfaction.

 

“Perhaps we could have some tea?” he asked dryly before continuing in a much harsher tone.  “Now let them down before I blow your flat to smithereens.”

 

The temptation stared back at him.  Draco almost wanted to leave them up and see just how strong they actually were, but something told him not to push it too far.  He raised his wand, waving it with the special incantation and pressed his hand to the invisible wall.  Within a second the air rippled and then became clear.

 

“Do come join me then.”  Draco offered and pointed toward the chair beside him.

 

Snape hesitated, apparently studying his underling for any signs of sarcasm and finally approached.  “I thought I would come to congratulate you.”

 

Draco didn’t reply, but looked inquisitively waiting to see if Snape would clue him in on the meaning of his statement.

 

“I never thought you’d actually accomplish it.  Granger I could see.  She’s a typical female.  You just turn on the charm and I figured she’d fall for it.  Potter was a bit more difficult, but you managed him well enough.  Still, I never expected you to bring Weasley over.  That showed true cunning.”

 

Draco cleared his throat, still trying to understand Snape’s meaning.  He wasn’t sure why, but a cauldron full of guilt suddenly washed over him.  

 

“Your father will be very proud.  You have actually accomplished your task.  You know more about the three of them than most others.  You are their friend.”  He punctuated the last word in such a way that Draco felt his skin crawl.  “The Dark Lord may be pleased enough to actually let you live.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, after your complete and utter failure on the Astronomy Tower, did you think you’d just get off scott free?  I thought you were smarter than that, Draco.  Don’t you see?”

 

Draco’s brow furrowed in reply.

 

“This was a test,” Snape continued.  “Surely you recognized that.”

 

“A test?”

 

“Well, you are just full of eloquence tonight, aren’t you?” Snape twisted his mouth and raised a brow.

 

“I…um…”

 

“Yes, well…English isn’t your strong suit is it?  Perhaps you should stick to wooing unsuspecting women and forging bank records.”

 

“Pardon me, but I haven’t forged anything.”

 

“Draco, I don’t have time for games.  I told your mother that I would look out for you and I have.  You’ve survived over a year under my watch, but I don’t intend on living this life of lurking in dark corners forever.”

 

“You’ve been watching me?”

 

“Please…don’t insult me.”  
  


“I…”

 

“I questioned at first why you didn’t reveal Granger to your father, or why, when she was lying in your bed, you didn’t contact someone and simply hand her over.”

 

“What?  You…”

 

“Yes, I was watching.  I intercepted an owl you sent to Weasley.  Very interesting.”

 

“She was sick.  She needed help.”

 

“And since when is that your concern?”

 

Draco swallowed roughly.  The sickening feeling that he had done something deathly wrong struck him in the gut.  _This was a test?  Was I supposed to turn her over to my father?  To the Dark Lord?  If he’s been watching me all along then…Oh, dear god, what have I done?_

 

Snape continued to stare at him, his black eyes squinting subtly.  Draco felt sure that those hallow eyes were the point of the needle boring into his thoughts, the experienced Legillimens practicing his art with ease.  Draco shifted his gaze, hoping to break whatever link his former professor had attempted.  He knew it was futile to resist, for if Snape really wanted to read his mind, he could surely penetrate Draco’s feeble defenses.

 

However, in all the years he had known the man, the sense of invasion had never felt this strong.  It stung – a burning sensation in his skull as he struggled to put up his own defenses.  Even without looking into those ink black eyes, he sensed the manifestation of Snape’s scrutiny on his thoughts and intentions.  Without truly understanding why, he suddenly felt incensed and, with purpose, turned to stare back at the man.

 

“If you want to know something, you should ask and get your damn fingers out of my mind!”

 

It broke.  The sense of invasion left him immediately as Snape tilted his head, still studying him.

 

“Very well.”  He paused.  “I want to know exactly where you stand, Draco.”

 

“Where I stand on what?”

 

“I’ll give you this opportunity to answer truthfully.”

 

“I’ve never lied to you, Snape.”

 

“Perhaps, but I posed this question to you a few months ago and I’d like to know if you’ve finally made your decision.  I’ve watched you for years, Draco.  Watched the sniveling, grabbing on Daddy’s coat-tails Death-Eater wanna be as he strutted about the castle, his minions in tow.”

 

Draco scowled at the unflattering description, but Snape continued, standing to pace the length of the patio.  “And now, for the first time in your life, I actually see a man about to burst forth, a man with an ounce of integrity and one ready to make his own decisions.”  He pivoted around and stared directly at Draco.  “You are about to take the final test.”

 

Shifting uncomfortably, Draco listened closely, the growing tone of finality in his mentor’s voice.

 

“Having accomplished your goal, you have the rare opportunity of walking up to your father with your head held high.  You are in a position of power that few have enjoyed and now you have the choice of direction in your life.  I want to know if you plan to choose the correct path.”

 

The war of decision began in Draco’s head.  The truth quickly became swallowed in a mire of self-preservation.  Revealing his true intentions was far more dangerous than simply spewing out generalities and questions that might keep him alive a bit longer.  He may have had opinions about Snape’s own loyalties, but he was terrified of finding that they were opposite of what he suspected and hence could leave him in a very precarious position.

 

Of course, if Snape chose to question the validity of his reply, what was to keep him from changing his mind and simply delving into Draco’s consciousness for the truth.

 

With a rough swallow, Draco stood, leaning on his good leg with as much height as possible.  “I’ve chosen the path that is right for me.  Whether that is the same path as yours, I can’t honestly say, but as you so delicately put it, the decision is mine.”

 

Snape took a step toward him.  “As are the consequences.”  

 

Draco felt his heart skip a beat, his fight or flight reaction just tipping on the edge of motion.  Snape reached out, his pale hand appearing from beneath the black robes.  Draco dared not leave Snape’s eyes, but saw the movement peripherally and tensed as he felt the man take his own hand.

 

“I don’t trust people easily.  Those I do trust have the uncanny habit of ending up dead and so I don’t take this lightly, Mr. Malfoy.”  He thrust a bit of parchment into Draco’s hand, turned his head once more as if confirming his own suspicions.

 

“Make your choice.  Now.”  Draco glanced down for the briefest of seconds, only to hear a crack and find Snape had Apparated away.  Staring at the parchment, he started to open its folded edge when there came a knock on his door.  Stuffing the note in his pocket, he quickly replaced the wards and made his way toward the front entrance to his flat.

 

Still limping slightly, he waved his recovered wand over the door and saw Antonin Dolohov and Rodolphus LeStrange at the door.  Neither was dressed in robes, but in muggle clothing, something Draco found very disconcerting.  Grasping his wand firmly, he opened the door, prepared for whatever they had in store for him.

 

“Ah, Draco, my young lad.  It’s good to see you.  May we come in?”  LeStrange spoke as if they were the closest of family friends.

 

Draco hesitated, but decided it was in his best interest to allow them in.  He knew he was no match for both of them, especially with two legs that weren’t a hundred percent at the moment.  “Please do, Mr. LeStrange.”

 

The two walked in, admiring the foyer and walking into the living area, acting as if nothing were out of place.

 

“Nice flat you have here.  Your father has told us all about it.”  LeStrange continued.

 

“Yes, he also told us you had a lovely blonde girl staying with you?” 

 Dolohov’s eyes searched the flat for any signs of the afore mentioned female.  It was well known that Dolohov had an ill-advised libido that often got him into trouble.  His favorite form of entertainment: brutalizing the opposite sex and everyone in their circle knew it.  Snape’s words replayed in his mind.  _You are about to take the final test._ What exactly did he mean?  

“Yes, well, she’s not here right now.  Perhaps another time.”

 

“Perhaps,”  Dolohov said as he swiped a finger across the sideboard and examined it for dust.  “Quite clean.  I’m glad to see that you haven’t lost your Malfoy manners.”

 

“Gentlemen, what I can do for you today?”  Draco was anxious to get to the point and hopefully, get them out of his sight as soon as possible.

 

“Well, funny you should ask.  It seems that your presence has been requested in an audience with our Lord this evening and your father has asked us to fetch you.”

 

It was a good thing that Draco’s blonde hair and fair complexion left him very pale, because with the amount of blood that he felt draining from his face at the moment, he was sure they would sense his distress.

 

“Really?  And, what does our Lord require of me?”

 

“Well, we’re not actually sure, but we’ll find out in a couple of hours.  So, why don’t you grab your robes and we’ll be on our way.”

 

Both men had circled around him so that one was in front of him and one behind.  He considered cursing Lestrange and diving behind the sofa for protection, but he wasn’t sure that his legs were up for the task at the moment and he rather valued his life so, he carefully placed his wand back in its sheath and walked over to pick up his cloak.

 

A short while later, he was in front of the Dark Lord, his father at his side and feeling quite terrified, but working to keep his composure.

 

“Lucius, it is time we put our plan into action.  I want to end this and soon.”

 

“Yes, my Lord.  We have ascertained the Granger girls’s location and have been keeping watch over her.”

 

“Good.  Good.  Are the rooms ready?” Voldemort turned to Dolohov.

 

“They are.  Completely gloomy and uncomfortable.”

 

“Excellent.”  The red eyes focused squarely on Draco.  “Young Mr. Malfoy, approach.”  Draco took a cautious step forward and bowed as low as he could, hoping that any form of submission might spare him.  “My Lord.  How may I please you?”

 

“Yes, well, we shall see.  I understand you have developed a relationship with the Granger girl.  You are ‘friends?’”

 

Draco dreaded every word coming out of his mouth, not knowing whether each would put Hermione in more or less danger, but he didn’t dare appear to hesitate in his answers.  “Yes, my Lord.”

 

“Very well.  As soon as she is taken, I wish for you to go into her cell with the pretense of rescuing her, but I want to know the location of the Order of the Phoenix.  Now, if you fail in your attempt at getting her to confess, we’ll do it the hard way.  I’m very hopeful, however, that with your obvious charms, we’ll get much more information from her than if I turn her over to Bella.  I’m sure you’d prefer the prior.”

 

“I understand, my Lord.  I will convince her to divulge the information you require.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

Lucius bowed, as did Draco and he backed up, trying to hide himself in the crowd.  His father turned and smiled at him.  Well, he thought it was a smile, the best that Lucius could produce as he sucked in a breath and stood up straight, pushing his chest forward in the slightest, indicating that Draco should do the same and stand tall.  Draco took the hint and did as requested, all the while listening to the plans for the upcoming attack.

 

When the meeting had ended, Lucius insisted that Draco come back to the house and visit his mother.  Draco agreed, still hoping that after a short stay he would be able to get back to his own flat.  Unfortunately, his father insisted that he stay and locked down the house ‘for our safety’ he stated, but more likely to keep Draco within his sights.

 

For nearly a week, he remained at the mansion, unable to sleep or eat very well, knowing that he was going to be put to the test quite soon.  He tried on several occasions to leave the manor, but each time was spotted by either his mother, father, the gardener or one of the house elves.  Each time, he ended up in an unwanted conversation that forced him back inside.  He wasn’t sure, but he suspected that his father was having doubts about him, and for his own safety, he kept playing the role of the dutiful son, promising to do his part for the Dark Lord.  

 

November arrived in brisk, gray fashion.  Draco woke, showered, dressed in his best black robes, as per his father’s request, and had his morning tea before meeting his father in the study.  He had only been waiting for fifteen minutes when Lucius appeared in the doorway.

 

“The mission was a success.  Now it is your turn to prove yourself.  Come with me.”

 

“Wait.  Wait.  What do you mean?”

 

“I will Apparate us to the location where we are holding the Granger girl.  You will have one hour to find out the location of the Order of the Phoenix.  Everything is in place.  This will all end today.”

 

Lucius grabbed hold of Draco and with a crack they were gone.

 

*** 

 

Hermione was on her way to work.  Ron had just left after enjoying breakfast with her and she stepped into the Floo.  Just as she threw the Floo powder, she felt something odd and sensed a shift as she called out her location at the Wizengamot’s office.  It was well known that the Ministry monitored the Floo networks, maintaining the addresses and locations, with their registered names.  You had to use a registered name or the Floo wouldn’t work.  Floo connections could also be secured or could be set up as single-directional, allowing transport to only one other location.  Many times parents would set the Floo so that children could use it to come home and go to school or to their parents’ work location, but no where else.  The connection between the Wizengamot and Azkaban was secured and single-directional only.  You could also lock your Floo so that even if someone successfully reached the destination, they could not actually exit the fireplace itself until someone unlocked it from within.  

 

Hermione didn’t give out her address to just anyone.  It was restricted to her close friends and family, but through some cunning and deceitful measures, Voldemort had managed to redirect her Floo just as she stepped into it that morning and at the last moment, she emerged into the sitting room of a small cottage.  The moment she stepped out, a hand reached around and grabbed her from behind.  Soon another man joined in and as one took her wand, the other held an arm tightly around her throat.

 

“Well, well, Ms. Granger.  Now, if you don’t want us to harm your child, then you’ll come along quietly.  Otherwise, a quick stunning spell should take care of everything.”

 

“No.  Please,” she whispered as they held her.

 

The cottage appeared quite small and Hermione tried to examine everything as quickly as possible and commit it to memory so she could try to determine her location.  Out the window, there were trees and fields against a gray sky for as far as the eye could see.  A moment later she was being led through a trap door that sat hidden underneath an oval braided rug and down a flight of wooden stairs.  They walked through a typical basement, complete with canned vegetables, garden equipment, old furniture and an antique looking Muggle washing machine.  

 

The next door took them down a narrow tunnel, lit only with two torches mounted on the walls and soon she found herself in front of a concrete room, enclosed by glass and the faint hum of magical wards.  Inside sat a single wooden chair and a square table covered in a layer of grime to which Hermione had no desire to recognize.  With a wave of the wand, one of the men opened the door, the other pushing her inside forcing her to stumble and fall to her knees, scraping one against the filthy floor and taking off a layer of skin.  She stood, gingerly holding her knee as she took a seat in the chair.  It was quite cold and damp, the only light coming from those same torches.  The two men smirked, staring at her through the glass for a moment and then left back down the hallway.

 

She sat like that for a solid hour, waiting and listening, only to hear the soft scurrying sounds of what she suspected were either rats or sizable insects.  She pulled her legs up off the floor, resting them on the rung of the chair’s cross-support.  Luckily, she did have her robes on and had dressed warmly in a sweater and wool skirt for work that day, but the continued exposure to the cold air was slowly seeping into her bones and she started to shiver, her teeth chattering ever so slightly.

 

A sharp noise caught her attention and she looked down the hallway to see two tall black-robed figures approaching.  Both had their heads covered, one stood taller than the other by an inch or so.  The one stopped in the hall, crossing his arms over his chest and waited as the second one continued toward her, finally standing in front of her door.

 

A moment later, the doors to the cell opened and the figure walked in.  Hermione struggled to see the person’s face, but the dark hood and lack of light prevented it.  It approached her, pulled out its wand and stated very clearly.  “I want to know the location of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.”

 

“The Order of the what?  I’m sorry, but I don’t know of any Order.”  Hermione decided it best to play dumb and see what happened next.

 

“You will find it unwise to play games with me.  Now, you can tell me voluntarily, or I can torture it out of you.  Your choice.”

 

Terrified, she answered quickly.  “I don’t know the location.  I’m not a member of the Order.”  She tried to stop herself from shivering, but it was difficult.

 

The man apparently noticed her flinch and smirked.  “It’s a big stuffy in here, don’t you think.  Here, let me take those robes from you.”  He waved his wand and in a flash her robes were gone, leaving her sitting in just her sweater and skirt, dried blood having trickled down from her knee.

 

“Well, I’ll let you think about it for a while and I’ll be back.”  He turned and left the room, walking down to meet the other figure and she heard the door click shut.

 

Hermione started to play all kinds of scenarios on possible answers she could give them, each one still resulting in the fact that they would determine she was lying and end her life, she hoped rather quickly.  She felt the baby move and placed a hand on her stomach, praying it would survive this whole ordeal.  Her thoughts flashed to Ron and how much he wanted this baby and how she wished that she could live to see him hold it.

 

About twenty minutes later, the door opened again, but this time the hooded figure walked much faster, opening her cell door and cautiously lifting off the black hood.

 

Hermione stood slowly and stepped behind the chair for this man’s presence frightened her perhaps more than any other.  “Draco.”  

 

After everything that had happened in the past year, she felt caught between relief at seeing him and an extreme sense of gullibility as if she had just been duped by the biggest scam of her life.  Why was he here? And looking very much like a Death Eater?  Was he truly friend or foe?  It was confusing and terrifying and left her petrified behind the wobbly wooden chair as if it offered her some form of protection.

 

Draco looked odd, uncomfortable and closed his eyes for a scant second.  She knew they were probably being watched and someone was mostly likely listening as well so, she wasn’t surprised by the cautious and somewhat flat sound of his voice.  

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine.  Just a little cold.”

 

He glanced down at her knee and the dried blood that was caked on her shin.  “What happened?”

 

“I fell and scraped it when they pushed me in the cell.”  She hesitated, battling with herself over the issue of trusting him or not.  “Can you get me out of here?”

 

“I’m not sure.”  His tone remained without emotion.  He stepped closer and Hermione gripped the chair harder.  She had never seen his eyes turn so dark; they appeared almost deep gray as he advanced again.  Hermione stood frozen as he finally whispered.  

 

“They have a one-way Floo connected upstairs and if you tell me the Order’s location, I could set the Floo and we could get you out that way.”

 

She almost wanted to cry.  A breath caught in her chest and she shook her head in disbelief, backing away another step.

  

  _They’ve sent him in here to interrogate me._  

 

“They’re going to torture you for the information Hermione.”

 

“And you want me to just tell you?  Draco, the location is protected under the Fidelius Charm.  Only the Secret-Keeper can reveal that information.”  The ever frightening reality was that Harry had made Hermione the Secret Keeper just weeks before, assuming that in her condition, she wouldn’t be out on missions and was less likely to be captured.

 

Of course, there had been that gap between the time that Dumbledore died and McGonagall reset the Fidelius.  The time frame had been short and Dumbledore’s death sudden and unplanned.  Therefore, it was unlikely that anyone had used the time to write down the address or tell anyone before the charm was reset.

 

Draco gripped her forearm and pulled her back to the chair.  He wasn’t so much rough as insistent and she sat down, still shivering and unsure of what to think of this man standing before her.  He crouched down in front of her and took both of her hands in his as they disappeared up into the sleeves of his robe.  Hermione’s eyes flashed all over the small cell, hoping for anything that might give her a way out.  Physically, she knew the danger that awaited her.  But, the doubt and self-loathing that kept pulsing through her made her escape even more necessary.

 

Draco fixed his eyes firmly on her, his head movement following her until she was forced to look at him.  He spoke slowly.  “I can get you out of here if you tell me the address of the Order.”  

 

A chill, much stronger than the simple shivers she had previous felt, darted up her neck and she drew in a short, fearful breath.

 

“I-I c-can’t.” She whispered with a stutter, her eyes pleading with him to let her go.  She could withstand any torture, any interrogation, just not from him.  Not from the person she had truly considered a friend.  The implications of her naivety and duplicity in so many other things weighed on her.  Part of her knew she had to be brave, give a firm response and a stoic expression, but another part just wanted to cry.

 

Then Draco said something unbelievable.  “They know the baby is Potter’s.”

 

Her eyes flashed up to his and she felt him squeeze her arms inside his belled sleeves.  He kept speaking, his eyes alight and intense.

 

“If you don’t tell them, then Harry will come after you and he’ll be in danger.”

 

He had just lied.  He knew it and she knew it, but she was almost positive no one else did.

 

“Just tell me the location and you can go home,” he continued, his head shaking to the contrary almost imperceptibly.  “Your baby will be safe.”  He nodded at her.  A rustle of cloth drew her attention as the other tall dark figure turned and retreated back up the steps.    

 

*** 

 

“Hermione.”  She looked back at him.  “You have to trust me or I can’t help you.”

 

“Trust you?  How can you say that?”  Her eyes began to fill with water.  “Is this some sort of test?”

 

_You are about to take the final test._   Snape’s words reverberated within.

 

“A test?” he repeated.  

 

“Yes.  Draco, how can I trust you?  You’re asking me to a make a choice that I just can’t.”

 

  _Make your choice.  Now._

Draco envisioned the pale hand slipping the piece of parchment into his and he stood up and reached into the pocket of his robes.  There, still folded and hidden, rested the note.  He drew it out, staring at it strangely and then back at the teary-eyed face that sobbed through a gasp and drew her legs up to her chest in fear.

 

Snape’s words again drew back to the forefront of his mind and he repeated them in a droning voice as if all the pieces of a puzzle were merging into one giant picture in his head.  “You don’t trust people lightly.”  His eyes shifted to hers.  “Those you trust have an uncanny habit of ending up dead.”  Hermione’s sobs increased, clearly in fear, as Draco unfolded the parchment and read it.

 

He turned it, a single line of script now facing Hermione.

 

“No!” she screamed and lurched for the paper, stripping it from his hands, but it no longer mattered.  “Please, no, no, no!”  She shredded it feverishly as her cries echoed throughout the dank concrete, and Draco knew instantly – knew the test that he now had to pass – knew the trust that Snape had placed in him – knew his choice had been made.

 

Without acknowledging her, he bolted from the room and up the narrow staircase, his mind sharp as a razor.  Behind him, he faintly heard her continued pleas as she ran after him until no longer able.  Emerging from the trap door, he called out to the two Death Eaters standing guard.  They weren’t the brightest of fellows and Draco recognized his advantage with great clarity.  Pulling up his full height, he lowered his voice in the best imitation of his father.

 

“You.  Get me a blanket, food and water.  And you, I need parchment, quill and a map of London.  Now!”  He spun back and swished his wand over the doorway, the exact motion to engage the lock.

 

The two peons glanced at each other with equally doltish ambition and finally split off, each going to do as ordered.  Draco quickly navigated the hall of the small cottage, listening for anyone’s presence.  He was sure that his father was close by, but he took a chance, unable to waste a single second as he reached the main parlor.  With Floo powder leaking through his determined grip, he stepped into the Floo and called out “13 Grimmauld Place” as quietly as possible, vanishing in a flash of green.

 


	28. Chapter 28 - Moment of Truth

  
Author's notes:

Here it is.  Depending on your opinions of Draco, some of you will love this and some will hate it.  Either way, I hope you enjoy the ride.  My deepest gratitude to Indie for keeping my commas from jumping ship!

 

* * *

Remus and Harry were hanging a door when the black-robed figure stepped out of the Floo at Grimmauld Place.  They heard the whoosh sound and went to investigate, completely shocked to find Draco standing in the parlor.

 

Remus’s wand flew to his fingertips with lightning speed, but it was Harry who spoke first.

 

“Draco!  How the hell did you get here?!”

 

Remus postured, his weapon trained on the intruder’s chest, but Harry raised a tentative hand, keeping him at bay.  

 

Draco dared not move, his eyes focused on the wand tip held threateningly at his torso.  Slowly and with as much sincerity as he could muster, Draco spoke.  “Harry, Hermione’s been captured.  They’re holding her in a cottage basement.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t listen to him, it’s a trap.”  Remus rebuked swiftly.

 

Draco raised his hands, hoping to show his surrendering attitude and lack of weapon.

 

“No, it’s the truth.  Listen.  I haven’t got much time.  You have to trace me as I go back to get the address on the Floo so you can find her.  I can only hold them off for another ten to fifteen minutes and they’re going to torture her.  They want this address.”

 

“And how did _you_ get this address?” Remus demanded.

 

“Does it matter?  I know it.  It’s done with.  I’m here of my own free will with one goal.  We have to help Hermione.  I don’t think she’ll survive if she’s tortured.”

 

Remus and Harry exchanged looks of disbelief.  Harry shook his head, replying back to Remus’ unstated question.  “She wouldn’t have.”  Remus glared back at Draco, his wand still held tight.  

 

It seemed that Harry made a decision for he spoke decisively.  “How many of them are there?”

 

“My father and I think three more, but I’m not positive.  There could be others.”

 

“You can’t trust him, Harry.”  Remus countered.

 

Harry let out a deep breath, his gaze examining the man before him with the intensity of a polished magnifying glass, trying to draw forth any sense of deception.

 

“Remus, can you trace the Floo address?”  Harry asked, moving aside.

 

“Yes.”  Remus stepped up, looking leery, his wand still at the ready.

 

“I have to go back.  They’ll suspect.  Send help soon.”  Draco turned his back on the two, praying that somehow the decision he had made wouldn’t result in a well-placed curse to his back.  Stepping into the fireplace and knowing he might fall at any second, he turned around, wanting to confirm that they were ready with the trace.  Remus glanced back once more at Harry and then at Draco, nodding, his wand now drawn for another purpose.  Draco threw the powder calling ‘Return’ and the one-way Floo pulled him to his point of departure.

 

*** 

 

“Do you have it?”  Harry asked as Remus completed the spell.

 

“Yes.  Let me find a map.  This still could be a trap.  I don’t like it.  You round up as many members as you can.  Don’t use the Floo.  If they fail to reset it, we might be able to get in directly.”

 

Remus headed for the bureau drawer to search for the address and Harry quickly Apparated to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

 

*** 

 

Draco returned, stepping quickly out of the fire, not sure if his little side trip had been witnessed.  He tried to look casual, hoping the men would return in a moment and he could walk back into the basement with the blanket, food and water.  Just two seconds later, the men appeared and Draco took the items and returned to Hermione’s cell.  

 

She sat sobbing amongst a bed of leafy parchment.  He quickly wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, helping her back to the chair.  After offering her the glass of water, he paced around the room trying to determine how to stall a bit longer.  She sipped it once or twice and set it back on the table.  “Thank you.”

 

Her look of distrust in him was heart-breaking, but he had to act.  Time was of the essence and explanation or apologies were irrelevant at this moment.  They would find their way back at a later time when the threat to both of them was long extinguished.

 

He desperately wanted to console and assure her, but kept himself focused on the landscape.

 

“I’ve brought you parchment and a quill because I’m sure that you can’t speak the location of the Order.  You will have to write it down.  Correct?”

 

She looked at him closely and he hoped with an eye for any hidden signals, something that would clue her in to his intentions.  “Is there a secret keeper?” he asked.

 

Draco knew that she couldn’t divulge the name of the secret keeper, but she could acknowledge if one did exist.  The fact she had told him this earlier meant nothing…now was the time for stall tactics, any and all.  Slowly, she nodded her head, clearly hoping that it was the correct response.  Draco continued walking around and speaking slowly and her eyes followed him as he moved.  “Do you know the name of the secret keeper?”  He said this while subtly shaking his head, cluing her in to an answer.  

 

“No, ” she warbled tremulously.

 

Draco was trying to think of anything to stall and finally walked over, pulling her to her feet and wrapping his arms around her, slipping them inside of the blanket she held around her shoulders.  He noticed his father appear at the end of the hallway, replacing the other two guards and he knew that the time was coming close.  If he was unable to get her to speak, they would take over.

 

She tensed, the figure that had once felt so soft pressed against him, now rigid with fear and inflexibility.  Sensing his father’s gaze, Draco lowered his voice, pressing his lips to her ear and muttering almost without sound.  “Hermione, I’m sorry.”

 

It didn’t seem possible, but she began to shake even more.  Draco realized that his well-intentioned words had meant something else to her and she stood breathless certain of her imminent torture and death.  Instead, he had only hoped to, in some immeasurable way, purge himself of the shame for what he was about to do.

 

Lowering his head, he placed a small kiss on her jaw and then let his words fill the room with volume.  “We could be wonderful together, you and I.”  He moved his lips to her neck and continued kissing as his hands stroked her back.

 

Lucius cleared his throat, loudly enough that his voyeuristic intent was clear.  Draco knew the sign and continued his guilty assault.  “Be my mistress.  You will be safe and loved with me.  I will care for the child and give it all things necessary.  I have wealth and security.”  He kept kissing her neck and finally whispered in her ear, pretending to be nibbling at her ear lobe.  “Help me stall for time.”

 

Only because of the firm grip around her back did he notice the slump of her shoulders as she apparently got the message.  This was confirmed a second later when the play began, her voice false to him and all that knew her, but not to the robed father observing just yards away.

 

“Oh, Draco.  Do you mean it?”

 

“Yes, just tell me the location and I will take you away from all this.”  She started hesitantly kissing him back on his neck and he felt an uncomfortable shiver rise up on his skin.  With each touch of her lips he had a vision of either her own sorrowful eyes, Weasley’s fist coming at him or Harry’s glare of fury with sparkling finality.  

 

“You can have wealth and splendor.”  He kissed her neck again.  “You are so incredibly beautiful.”

 

Hermione must have caught sight of Lucius who, having dropping arms from his patient stance, was advancing toward them, for her eyes widened in fear.  She looked at Draco once, scrunched her face with what he determined to be a chest full of courage, sucked in a breath and pressed her lips hard against his.  Draco pulled her close to him and tried to not pretend that he was pretending to have the best snog of his life.  Even with closed lips, she tasted wonderful and a part of him wanted it to be real, but mostly he put up his best acting job, moaning and moving his mouth over hers, keeping his attention focused on the man behind him.  

 

He heard his father mutter “well done son” and he actually pulled back into the shadows for another few minutes, continuing to observe them.

 

Draco wasn’t sure if his father was more admiring Draco’s charms put into action or if he wasn’t getting some sick, twisted thrill out of watching the two of them.  Draco knew his time had run out a while earlier and he feverishly thought of something else he could do to put them off.  He heard a throat clearing and his father’s voice broke through.

 

“That’s enough Draco.  We need the information.”

 

Draco pulled his lips away and turned, hoping to sound some mixture of forceful and pleading.  

 

“Please, father, I’m rather engaged at the moment.”  He hoped this would give a few more precious moments, but Lucius insisted.  “Your time is up.”

 

He walked over to his father and whispered.  “Is there a bedroom upstairs?”

 

Lucius’ brows arched in surprise at the statement.  “Why Draco.  You would lower yourself to be with this Mudblood?”

 

“If it will force her to divulge the name, I will.  She has almost revealed it to me.  Let me get her in the throws of passion and she’s sure to tell.”  Hermione had taken several steps back, holding the blanket tightly around herself.

 

Just when Draco thought all was lost, Hermione re-entered the game.  “Draco?  Please, love.  Please.  I’ll do anything for you if you’ll just show me that you love me!”

 

Draco realized without even listening to the words that this was the ultimate ludicrous statement when it came to Hermione’s thoughts and ideals, but his father had always been a bit of a hopeless romantic.  His notions of women – the weaker sex – left him with sometimes escapist, fairy-tale-like visions of them and their desires.

 

She wailed, as realistically as she could, clearly hoping it would help.

 

Unfortunately, this seemed to crack the mirror of illusion for Lucius and he stepped around his son to face her.  “Well, my dear.  I’m sorry, but Draco isn’t available to satisfy your filthy Muggle needs.  However, I’m sure someone else here could give you the love you so desire in exchange for your information.”

 

He snapped his fingers and two other men came down the hall, walking into the cell and gripped Hermione by each arm.  Draco tried to stand in the way, his arguments falling on deaf ears as Lucius ordered them to take her upstairs.  Her screams filled the damp basement as they pulled her down the hall and up the steps.

 

“No!  Please no.  Draco!  HELP ME!”

 

Lucius smirked and pointed his wand to the hall, in a gesture of ‘you first’ and Draco pushed down the bile rising in his throat and followed them up.  He knew his wand rested in his pocket, but dared not make a move until he could get behind his father.

 

As Draco emerged from the trap door, he saw Dolohov standing in front of Hermione, who struggled against the two imbeciles holding her hostage.  Draco moved aside casually to allow his father to come up behind him, praying that help would arrive at any second.  He continued to try and think of any stall tactics, but the fear on Hermione’s face overtook him.  Dolohov smiled, his lip curling up to reveal a foul looking set of yellow teeth that probably had an accompanying breath to match.  

 

Through his sneer he asked, “Where is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix?”

 

Hermione stood shaking and just as she started to finally speak.  “I don’t….” 

 

The open-handed slap left a red blotch across her cheek, forcing her head to whip around as she clutched at her stinging skin and began crying in earnest.  Draco took a tiny step forward, fearing that he was going to have to intervene, even if it meant getting himself killed or worse.

 

This was the moment to determine whose side he was on.  If he let this continue, he would never be able to face Hermione, Harry, Ron or any of the others again.  He would be forced to live in the dark, to do his father’s bidding.  He would be shunned from all good, all hope of having a normal life.  However, if he defended her, he would most likely die at the hands of his own father or possibly be tortured into insanity by Dolohov or maybe even delivered to the Dark Lord himself.  His entire, brief life flashed before his eyes and he replayed all of the rude comments and hurtful gestures.  He saw himself standing before Dumbledore, needing to kill, but unable to do so.  Then he saw Hermione looking into his eyes on the top of the Astronomy Tower.  Her warm brown orbs had been so hopeful, so giving as if he might just be lucky enough to have her.  His own statement made to Ron just weeks earlier rang in his ears.  ‘I will take action and I will protect her.’

 

Dolohov nodded to the two men holding her.  They pushed her toward him and moved to the other side of the small dining table as she crashed into his barrel-chested torso.  Dolohov dug his fingers into her shoulder and pushed Hermione forward, bending her over the table.  The two men grabbed her arms, pulling her forward and held her down.  She screamed and pleaded, her cries mixing with Dolohov’s shouts of “Hold her!”  In one terrifying move, Dolohov ripped her skirt up and tore her knickers off of her. Hermione started pulling with all her might to get free, her legs attempting to kick back at her assailant.

 

“Let’s see if you just need a little persuasion.”  Dolohov sneared, unbuckling his belt.  Reaching into his robes, his pants slipped to his knees and there resounded a loud crack.  Lucius quickly turned toward the window to investigate the source of the noise and at that precise moment, the Floo erupted, spewing forth a red-faced and furious Ron, an equally agitated Remus with him.

 

Acting purely on instinct, Draco put his shoulder down and shoved Dolohov from the side.  The louse tumbled into Lucius, tangled in his trousers, his large frame ramming the thinner man into the cottage wall.

 

A jet of red light flew past Draco’s head from outside, breaking the window’s pane in the process.  Chaos ensued.  Dolohov scrambled to pull his pants back up as Lucius took aim on the source of the red light.  The two other Death Eaters released Hermione, in acts of obvious self-preservation and started firing volleys at Remus and Ron.  Within a millisecond, Harry and Bill burst through the door, drawing Lucius’ attention away.

 

Hermione cried hysterically and slid down the side of the table, collapsing to the floor.  Draco moved quickly, staying low, he crawled over to her and wrapped an arm around her back, leading her away from the wand fire and toward the back door of the cottage.

 

Curses were flying left and right and Draco could hear Ron’s bellow of rage and knew he was going to take it out on Dolohov’s face.  Hermione finally got her footing and Draco pushed open the door and ran across the field, pulling her by the hand.  There were stacks of logs, bales of hay, several oxen carts, a barn and a small shed all dotting the yard.  With little time to survey his options, he pulled Hermione toward one of the carts and thrust her forward, tossing handfuls of hay over her as she came to rest on her side.

 

“Please just stay here and be quiet.  I’ll come back.”

 

He bolted back toward the house.  Re-entering the scene, Bill and Remus were battling it out with the two Death Eaters in the garden.  Unbelievably, the two idiots were still putting up a decent fight.  It appeared that two or three additional Aurors were advancing on them and another couple of pops indicated more reinforcements were on the way.

 

Draco ducked and peaked around the corner of the room to see Ron furiously punching Dolohov anywhere and everywhere.  The yellowed teeth were now coated in a spitting of blood as he tried to fight back, but was obviously no match for Ron’s size, youth and raging temper, especially when he was defending Hermione.  With another blow, Dolohov’s face became unrecognizable except for that of a bloody mess, but he kept kicking.  Another man in Auror robes lie on the floor in front of the Floo.

 

Harry and Lucius were trading curses as if in a proper duel.  Lucius seemed to be toying with him, disturbingly sparing with great enjoyment.  Draco walked into the doorway, his wand drawn and approached Harry from behind.  Lucius saw this and smiled, something that must have made Harry pause.

 

“Well, well, well,” Lucius sneered.  “You certainly have been working on those defensive skills now, haven’t you, Harry?” Lucius asked.  His long blond hair hung wildly, no longer tucked neatly in its tie.

 

“You have no idea.”  Harry breathed hard, but completely focused, his wand poised for the next strike.

 

Ron delivered one last blow to Dolohov, spattering more blood from his mouth onto the floor and he turned to see Draco standing directly behind Harry, his wand drawn.

 

Lucius continued.  “Won’t my Lord be pleased with me when he sees what I’ve captured for him.”  Lucius allowed his focus to leave Harry’s eyes for one brief second and he offered a knowing look at his son. 

 

Fully expecting to be supported in his takeover attempt, Lucius called out “Crucio” as Harry called out a very powerful choking curse.  Ron yelled “Protego,” throwing a shield at Harry.

 

The Crucio bounced off the shield even as the choking curse met its target.  Lucius grabbed his throat and watched in horror as Draco folded his arms over his chest and smirked, watching the spell take effect.

 

Harry stared at Draco, his breath coming hard as he gaped at the unresponsive man.  Only after meeting the eyes of Ron and Remus did he release Lucius who was nearly passed out.  With ease, he took the elder Malfoy’s wand, bound his hands and feet, all the while still watching the reticent Draco.

 

“Well, it’s your choice, Draco.”  Harry offered.  “Should I let him live?”  Lucius’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, first to his captor and then in plea to his son.

 

All fell silent.  Whatever dueling that had been going on outside must have been settled.  Several bodies littered the floor.  Dolohov moaned coming back to consciousness, unfortunate for him as Ron’s clenched jaw indicated more reserves ready to continue the punishment.

 

Draco felt a wave of confidence, of destiny wash over his life.  He almost believed that the clouds would clear and a chorus of angels would spew forth from the heavens to declare his freedom from the tyrannical grip that had held his soul.  

 

“Well, he is my father and I don’t really want him dead, but he is awfully dangerous to keep around.”  Draco walked over and stood very tall, speaking directly to his father.

 

“You are on the wrong side of this war.  Harry is far more powerful than anyone realizes, even you.  Voldemort is going to fall and Harry is going to take him down.  I’ve finally found a place to belong, a place where people actually care about me, show me friendship, she me loyalty and show me what it’s like to be loved.”

 

Lucius replied through his swollen voice box in a raspy tone.  “Son, he’s just toying with you and you know that our Lord will be very displeased with you should you turn on him.  You will be punished, tortured and murdered with all swiftness.  However, if you help me to take him now, we can both go before the Dark Lord with the ultimate prize.  We can rule as his right hand men, father and son.  We will be the most powerful wizards alive after the Dark Lord.  Don’t be foolish.  You have the Malfoy name, the holdings, the contacts, the wealth, everything to make you a powerful man.  Don’t throw this all away!”

 

Harry and Ron watched this display, their postures indicating their trust in Draco’s loyalty.  Draco studied his father for a moment and then smiled at him, giving him that nice sense of security just before he yelled out “ _Silencio_.”  He turned to Harry.  “ _Obliviate_ him.”  

 

Lucius’ face went deathly pale and he vigorously shook his head, unable to move anything else or to speak.  Harry simply nodded at Draco and threw the memory charm, holding it until Draco told him to withdraw, effectively wiping his memory back to the age of four.  Remus and Bill burst through the door, both tired, a bit bloody, but otherwise fine.  Dolohov was holding his face and trying to sit up, but Ron put a foot to his shoulder and shoved.  “Lay down or die, you fucking bastard!”

 

Draco met Ron’s furrowed brow.  “She’s in the back.  In the oxen cart.”

 

Ron’s long strides had him through the house and out the back door in seconds, running at full tilt to the first cart, throwing the hay aside, but finding nothing.  

 

“Hermione!”

 

Harry and Draco followed, both hearing a whimper, then Ron’s name being called as he ran to the third cart and began pushing the hay away.  She lay crying, rolled up in a ball, her hair full of hay.  Ron immediately crawled up into the cart and wrapped his arms around her just as Harry and Draco walked toward them.

 

“Is she alright?”  Harry asked, only seeing the mass of brown curls pressed up against Ron’s chest.

 

“I need your cloak.”  Ron gestured, still holding Hermione close.  Draco quickly removed his black robes and handed them over.  It was then he realized that she was barely covered from the waist down, her skirt torn almost off of her and nothing under it.  Ron wrapped it around her as best he could, but Hermione refused to let go of him.

 

Bill came walking out of the cottage, also concerned about Hermione just as Ron, Harry and Draco were attempting to ease her out of the cart.  “Why don’t you get her back home, Ron.  Remus and I have this under control.  Tonks is on her way, along with Mad-Eye and a few other Aurors.”

 

Harry went ahead, resetting the Floo to Hermione’s flat and Ron led her into the house, carefully escorting her into the fireplace.  Harry watched as they disappeared and finally turned to Draco. 

 

“I don’t know what to say.”  Harry glanced down at Lucius who was now looking bewildered and crying like the child that he was.  “Thank you, Draco.”  He reached out his hand and Draco took it, each offering the other a genuine smile.

 

“Let’s go check on Hermione, alright?”  Draco suggested, moving into the fireplace.

 

“Go ahead.  I’ll be right there.”

 

Seconds later, Draco arrived at Hermione’s flat.  Not knowing his surroundings, he listened and started walking toward the back of the apartment. 

 

“Hello?”  He arrived at the bedroom door and saw Ron pulling hay out of Hermione’s hair as she lie on her bed.  He was speaking softly to her even as she continued to sob.

 

“Can you make her some tea?”  Ron asked and Draco nodded, moving back into the kitchen.  Harry arrived through the Floo just moments later and approached Draco.  “How is she?”

 

“I’m not sure.  I’m making her some tea.  Weas…I mean Ron is attending to her.”

 

Harry just nodded and sat down at the kitchen table as Draco started back down the hall with a tall cup of steaming hot liquid in his hands.  When Draco approached, Ron was running a healing spell over Hermione’s knee and he thanked him as he put the cup down on the bed table.  “Harry and I will just be in the kitchen.”

 

When Draco returned, Harry was rubbing his forehead and looked up at his new found supporter.  “Voldemort isn’t happy.  In fact, he’s livid.”

 

“And, how do you know that?” Draco took a seat across from Harry.

 

“I can sense his emotions through my scar.  It used to be really painful, almost crippling when he got angry and let his guard down, but now I feel it, but it doesn’t hurt.”

 

“Have you always been able to feel him?”

 

“Since I was about eleven or twelve years old, yes.”

 

About twenty minutes later, Bill appeared in the Floo as well and dusted himself off as he joined the other two men at the table.  Ron came down the hallway and entered the kitchen, handing Draco’s cloak back to him.  “Thanks.”

 

Ron sat down, resting his head in his palms, his bloodied knuckles evidence of his past hour.  Harry ran a hand over his face and Draco just sat, staring blankly until Bill finally spoke.  “You need to get a Healer to take a look at her.”

 

All three of the other men replied.  “No!”

 

Bill looked a bit confused.  “Why not?  It appears she might have been raped and if you get her to a Healer soon enough…”

 

“She wasn’t raped.”  Draco cut in.  “I was going to stop it.”  He directed his next comment straight at Ron.  “I’ve done unconscionable things in my life, and I don’t know how you could ever forgive me, but you have to believe I wouldn’t have let them do that to her.”

 

Ron placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder.  “I know it.”

 

“You should still get a Healer to check her out.  She could have other injuries.”  Bill quickly got up and started down the hallway himself toward Hermione’s bedroom.  The other three all looked at one another, finally all settling on Ron who got up and followed his brother back, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to tell him the truth and soon.

 

*** 

 

Bill sat down on the edge of her bed, gently stroking her hair back off of her face.

 

“Ron?”  She mumbled, not opening her eyes.

 

“Shh.”  Bill replied, not wishing to wake her and it was then as she rolled over toward him that he noticed her bruised cheek and the obvious bump across her abdomen.  Bill looked at the swollen stomach, a large bruise developing across the bottom from where the table had pressed into her.  A spot that even now she cradled with one hand as it peaked out from underneath her shirt, and he turned back to Ron who was standing in the doorway.  He didn’t speak, but just examined his little brother, wondering if his suspicions were correct.

 

“She’s five months pregnant, and, yes, before you ask, it’s mine.”

 

Bill just nodded, looking back at Hermione once again and pulled the blanket up around her gently rising from the bed.

 

Ron and Bill were nearly the same height and almost the same build, yet Ron still felt small when confronted by his eldest brother.  Bill quietly pulled the door closed and stood in the hallway.  Ron wasn’t sure what to expect next.  He had always admired his big brother and standing before him now he felt the ten years difference in their ages.  With a swift move, Bill smacked him in the head, just enough that Ron winced for a second, but not hard enough to actually hurt.  

 

“You realize your dead as soon as Mum finds out.”  This was followed by a warm hug.  “Congratulations.”  

 

Bill smiled and followed his little brother back down the hall and the four men sat at the kitchen table, all exhausted.  All trying to comprehend what had happened that day.  All thanking their lucky stars that they had survived another encounter.

 

*** 

 

Bill agreed to keep it quiet for a bit longer and offered some advice to Ron, slapping him a little too hard on the back in doing so.  Ron wasn’t sure if it was truly an offer of help or his brother’s way to reprimanding him.  Bill left shortly thereafter, but the remaining three men stayed together that entire evening, having dinner and each taking turns to check on Hermione.  Over the next week the three of them kept up a steady vigil as Hermione recovered.  She wasn’t so much physically injured as emotionally and each had a turn at some point during the week, holding a sobbing woman in their arms.

 

Harry and Ron had night duty twice that week and Draco offered to sleep on the couch at Hermione’s place to keep an eye on her.  At dawn of the last night, Draco awoke to her cries and ran back to the bedroom to find her bolt upright, covered in sweat with tear tracks running down her face.

 

He quickly scooped her up into his arms and began rubbing her back and offering words of comfort.  Ron returned from his night shift and walked in to find the two of them sitting like that on the bed.  Even though he knew that Draco and he had an understanding and even with Hermione’s assurances, he still had doubts about the nature of their relationship.  However, he welcomed one less uncertainty in his life.  Draco could be trusted.


	29. Chapter 29 - A Brilliant Mind

  
Author's notes:

Once again, I have to thank Indie  - you are always there with a terrific attitude, intriguing comment and a red pen - and you're not afraid to use it!  

To all the readers out there, I can't tell you how much your comments mean to me.  They keep me going, constantly pushing me to improve, to edit and re-edit hoping to bring a smile (or tear) to your eye.  Thank you so much!

* * *

 

Hermione returned to her office to find a huge stack of paperwork awaiting her attention.  Kingsley had spoken to her boss, explaining that she was helping in a top secret investigation of the Death Eaters and was going to be away from the office for a week or so.  This cover story had given her enough time to heal, both physically and emotionally after the kidnapping.  Anyone would agree that she had every right to feel shook up after the whole ordeal, but somehow Hermione felt a little embarrassed over the way she had acted.  She considered herself a strong person, of mind and body, so her emotional rollercoaster ride from the previous week was unusual for her.  At least, it was unusual for the normal, not pregnant and non-hormonal her.  

 

The day after the attack, she tried to go about her day as usual, but found herself suddenly shaking or crying or sometimes just loosing her train of thought and staring blankly across the room.  The following nights had been filled with horrible dreams, one after the other and so, she found herself very tired every day and dozing off frequently.  Luckily, most of her daytime sleep was dreamless.  This was the only way she managed to keep functioning.

 

Of course, she was blessed with good friends who were there for her all week.  Ron didn’t want to leave her side for the first two days, but when he did, either Harry, Draco or, surprisingly, Bill would arrive and either sit and keep her company or help in the kitchen or just stay while she slept.  She knew that Harry cared for her like a sister and weeping into his chest may have been awkward, but still comforting.  

 

However, any suggestion that Draco and she could have a truly platonic relationship was just foolish.  Hermione had finally come to some clarity on the matter and realized that every moment with Draco was a kin to a tease, a come on, an excuse for him to nudge his way closer.  Twice she caught Ron and Draco in a staring match.  It was brief, but very much like two male wolves meeting in the wild, vying for status.  Each time Draco looked away first as if he had lost the confrontation with the Alpha Male in the pack.  It became abundantly clear that Ron had staked a claim on her.  Despite the fact that it irked her to be considered anyone’s property, she had to admit there was a part of her that enjoyed his protective nature.  

 

It wasn’t her idea to ask Draco to stay while she slept three days earlier.  But, clearly someone trusted him enough to remain while Ron and Harry got called away.  She woke screaming from one of her nightmares, only to find his arms wrapped around her in solace.  She relaxed into him briefly for he had a sense of familiarity about him, but as soon as her breathing had slowed, she pulled back, abruptly wiped her eyes and excused herself.  Retreating hastily to her room, she noticed his somewhat hurt expression, but she knew she had to distance herself.  Draco had returned two days later, but maintained a more discreet distance and kept his conversations pleasant, but not personal.

 

What was even more shocking was her fourth day back.  Ron was sitting with her on the sofa when she fell asleep and had one of her rare, daytime dreams.  She saw the face of Dolohov and his eyes turned yellow and a thick black tongue came out and started to lick her face and wrap itself around her, pulling her closer and closer.  The scene changed quickly and she heard herself scream as the doctor told her to push, but she delivered a worm-like creature that had yellow eyes and teeth.  Not aware that she was actually screaming out loud, she felt a strong pair of arms wrap themselves around her and she woke, breathing heavily and clutching a shirt in her fists, tears running down her cheeks.  He was rocking her, caressing her hair and shushing her, his hand rubbing her back gently and she concentrated on slowing down her breathing and finally released her grip on him.

 

“Hermione, are you okay?”

 

Blinking several times, her ears perked up and she started to pay particular attention to the feelings and smells around her.  It wasn’t the familiar aroma of fresh cut grass, but a subtle pine scent that infused the air around her and she realized that it wasn’t Ron’s voice speaking to her and it certainly wasn’t Draco.  She parted from the warm body, looking up into the smiling face of Ron’s eldest sibling.  Bill’s pleasant expression was laced with warmth and tenderness.

 

“Bill.  Oh, Merlin.  I’m sorry.  I thought….”

 

“You thought I was Ron.  I realize that.  It’s okay.”  She wiped her tears away and sat up straighter on the sofa.  “We do look a lot alike,” he smiled.  
  


As she became vertical, she also realized that her robe had fallen open and she was only wearing a short nightdress that didn’t help to hide her bulging tummy.  “I’m so embarrassed.”  She clutched the robe tighter and tried to slide farther away.

 

“Don’t be.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  Ron had to leave.  I had come by to talk to you about the research and he asked if I would sit with you until he could get back.”

 

She got up and started toward the kitchen.  “Would you like some tea?”  It was perfectly clear from her jittery actions that she was still reeling from both the bad dream and from her encounter with him and he quickly walked in to the kitchen and placed his hand over her shaking one on the handle of the tea kettle.

 

“Hermione.  Stop.  I’ll make the tea.  Please, sit down.”

 

“I’m perfectly capable of making tea, Bill.”  She tried to prove that statement, pulling out a cup, but the chatter of the tea cup against the saucer, indicated otherwise.

 

This time he placed his hands on her upper arms and looked directly into her eyes.  “I’m sure you are capable, Hermione, but I would really like to help you.  Please?”

 

She finally nodded and took a seat as Bill got the tea ready and sat down across the table from her.  They sat in silence, sipping their tea.  Hermione kept her focus on the table or the cup, but she glanced up at him several times, still feeling uneasy and embarrassed.

 

“Hermione.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I know about the baby.”

 

She closed her eyes.  “Oh, God.”

 

He placed a hand on her arm.  “Don’t worry.  I haven’t said anything to anyone.”

 

Slipping a hand over her mouth, she spoke through her fingers.  “Does Ron know that you know?”

 

“Yes.”  When she didn’t reply he went on.  “Hermione, I understand your fears, but you’re going to have to tell my parents and your parents very soon.  You can’t hide this any longer and you shouldn’t have to.  We all love you and we’re here to help you.  You can turn to me just like you would to Harry or Ron or any of my brothers.  You know, I do have a wife and I know a little about women.  It’s okay to be upset after what happened.  You are allowed to cry and have bad dreams and even grab my shirt and hold me for dear life.  I don’t mind.  Really.  I’m happy to just hold you, if you need it.  That baby is going to be my niece or nephew and I hope that you’re going to end up my sister-in-law.  We’ll be family.  So, no need to be embarrassed.  Alright?”

 

During the course of his speech, she started to perk up a bit and by the ‘niece or nephew’ line she had allowed a smile to creep across her face.  She nodded.  “Thank you, Bill.  I know you’re right.  I’m just dreading the moment Mrs. Weasley finds out.  Ron has been so sweet, so understanding.  He’s going to make a wonderful father and I can’t stand the thought of your mum screaming at him as if this were all his fault.”

 

“Knowing my mum, she’ll definitely have something to say, but in the end, she’ll be so delighted with the prospect of a grandchild, her anger won’t last.  Trust me, okay?”

 

“Alright.”  Bill smiled warmly and Hermione couldn’t help but relax at his expression, but she also wanted to get off the topic.  “So, um…what’s the research you came to discuss?”

 

“We don’t have to do this now, if you’re not feeling up to it.”  He took another sip.

 

“No.  It’s fine.  It will keep my mind off of other things.”

 

That had been four days ago and Bill and Hermione ended up spending several hours each day going over Bill’s latest findings until Ron would come and shoo his brother away telling him that she needed her rest.  Today, sitting at her desk, she almost felt relieved just to be back at work, but all the details from the curse kept buzzing through her head.

 

They had managed to decrypt most of the text Bill had found.  It was like a jumbled poem of sorts and didn’t make a whole lot of sense.  She kept glancing at it during the day, as if one of these times all the pieces would fall into place and it would come together.  As soon as she got home, she pulled it out again, laying it across the kitchen table along with some other notes that Bill had left for her.

 

Draco stopped by and sat down at the table with her, interested in what she was doing, but remaining a few feet away.  Draco had definitely gained their trust and even Ron was allowing him in to their circle now as long as his actions toward her remained platonic.  He was examining Hermione’s notes with a curious eye when they heard a soft crack, announcing Ron’s arrival.

 

He walked into the kitchen.  “Hi, Draco.”  He patted the man on the shoulder as he walked past.  Draco offered a nod, his eyes following Ron as he planted a kiss on Hermione’s cheek.  “Hello, love.  How was your first day back?”

 

“Oh, you know, stacks and stacks of missed work, but it was still good.”

 

He grabbed a biscuit off the plate on the table.  “I’m going to grab a shower and I’ll be back shortly.  Any plans for dinner?”

 

“Um...your mum invited us over.”  Hermione paused with a look that indicated she had more to say.  Perhaps it was because Draco was present or she just didn’t want to get into the same old discussion again, but her features softened as she continued.  “Go get your shower and then we’ll figure out dinner.”

 

Draco sat somewhat quietly, arms crossed, either observing Ron and Hermione’s interaction or considering his own.  “So, what are you working on?”  He shifted a tiny bit closer.

 

“More of this curse stuff.  Bill has decrypted most of it, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”  She absently twirled a quill in her fingertips, something that meant she was already moving into deep thought.

 

“Can you tell me about it?”  His question wasn’t so much a request for information as a test to see if he had permission to know such things that would otherwise be contained in their inner circle.

 

His question was answered when Hermione launched into a full description of what they had learned so far.  “So, as far as we know, this could just be some pretty piece of poetry or it could be the key to removing this curse.”

 

Ron walked in, wearing a clean blue t-shirt, his hair still damp.  He pulled up a chair and Draco scooted a bit closer so that all three of them could look at it together.

 

“Then, I got this rubbing off of the chest.”  On the sheet of parchment with the actual rubbing, Hermione had listed a series of various numeric combinations.  “I think they’re roman numerals.  It definitely dates the chest.  I don’t know if these numbers have any significance at all and there are so many possible combinations.”  She tossed the paper to the side in frustration.

 

“Let me see this stuff.”  Ron grabbed the stacks of parchment with the decrypted text and then took a self-inking quill from Hermione and started making some notes.  Draco and Hermione looked at each other, both raising their eyebrows and wondering what he was doing.  After about fifteen minutes of listening to Ron scratch some lines and ‘u’ markings on a sheet of parchment and various other notes, Draco had resorted to eating biscuits and watching Hermione.  She didn’t notice Draco’s looks as she studied everything Ron was writing and watched him often, hoping for a clue as to what he was doing.

 

“This has a falling rhythm.  It looks iambic, but the meter is…hmmm.”

 

“What is he talking about?” Draco asked, looking back to Hermione.

 

“These are lines of a poem, but they’re out of order.  I’m trying to determine the type of meter so we could put it in the correct order.”

 

“Since when do you know anything about poetry?”  Draco smirked, a note of teasing in this voice, but Hermione cut in with a swift acknowledgement that put him in his place.

 

“He’s been reading poetry since last year when he bought me a book of it for Christmas and there’s _nothing_ wrong with that either.”  The stern look on her face made Draco back away.

 

“I didn’t mean anything by it.  I was just surprised.  Poetry is great.”  Hermione squinted at him and Draco tried to convince her.  “Really!”

 

“I think this is in iambic tetrameter.  See, every poem has a certain kind of cadence.  Certain words are stressed and not stressed.  So, if this line has ten syllables and nine words.  Hold on.”  He started shuffling through the other parchment on the table.  “Hermione, was there an order to these lines of text?  Any numbering system or logical sequence to them?”

 

“Numbering sequence?”

 

“Yeah, something that would help us put this in order.”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up as she leaned over and snatched back the discarded parchment with the rubbing.  “Could this be?”  Hermione smooth the paper out before them and they started comparing the numbers to the words and phrases.  Together, all three of them sorted the lines into various combinations with Ron scrutinizing each with great intensity.

 

“Alright.  So, ten words, but eleven syllables.”  

 

The pace of his scratchings increased.  Hermione considered that even when rushing to finish his most important essay, she had never seen him work with such fervor.  Watching him, she was struck with the thought that this was the grown-up Ron, the man, not the little school boy struggling with his homework.  She knew in body he was grown up quite a while ago, but this was his mind, his manner, his maturity that had evolved and in such a short period of time.

 

The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly.  She always had sensed that Ron had a brilliant mind, just waiting to be unlocked.  She might be a master of books, but Ron had much more instinctive knowledge and it was growing exponentially as he aged.  Always a maestro of strategy, all of the other knowledge he had gained over the years was merging into one cohesive and resplendent genius.  Hermione could sense it; in fact, she could almost see it, as she watched him sort through the various patterns.  A wave of pride infused her chest, realizing that he was indeed hers  - a seemingly perfect compliment to her own personality.

 

A sense of being watched drew her out of her thoughts and she glanced to her left, confirming that bristling feeling up her neck.  A pair of steel blue eyes were riveted on her and she knew why.  This man, once her mortal enemy, had now become a friend.  However, she knew that for him, the feelings were stronger.  His longing was evident, but his restraint remarkable.  Although, considering that he was sitting next to her rather protective boyfriend, it wasn’t surprising.  

 

His affections were a bit disconcerting, leaving her feeling unsettled.  She would never admit it to anyone, possibly even to herself, that she had been very briefly attracted to him and his propositions.  It felt complimentary and, after all, most women loved receiving compliments, even when it was clear that they would never lead to anything else.  However, Hermione was a creature of common sense and of loyalty.  After all, she was a Gryffindor.  She knew where her heart truly wanted to be and it was instead with a very tall, broad-shouldered, red-head who had captured her heart and soul some years before.

 

Ron’s eyes lit up with success, dropping the quill.  “I think this is it.  Yes.  What do you think?”  He pushed back from the table, giving Draco and Hermione a chance to read the results of his analysis:

 

  _She hath lost her love, having mourned now for years,_

_Her penance was served, through her prayers and her tears,_

_A life swings as_ _Crystal_ _tears, rain from the heavens,_

_Both families, sisters, save seven and sevens,_

_As hope holds tight now, destroy not what was learned,_

_For faith did not jar, as an enemy did turn,_

_Paternity lost to the sentry that served,_

_His pledge unfulfilled, not one pardon deserved,_

_Denied now, cry forth hence, my soul demands justice,_

_No pity, nor weakness, the kin must bear witness,_

_An evil incarnate, his souls washed in red,_

_Diminish to dust, his force never to dread._   

“I’m impressed.  You figured this out on your own?”  Draco seemed totally taken aback.

 

What he got in return was a brief scowl from Ron and a slap on the arm from Hermione.

 

“This looks right, Ron.  I see now what you mean.  I can almost tap out the cadence as I read it.”  She let out a large breath.  “Now we just have to figure out what all this means.”

 

Ron stood up, taking the parchment with him.  “I think we should take this back to show Bill and also, we need to let Harry read it.  The last time he said something out loud and it unlocked that chest.  So, reading this might unlock something else.  We need to get to the Burrow for dinner, don’t we?”

 

Draco sat still at the table as Hermione rose.  “Ron.  I can’t…I mean…I know we should, but…well, it’s getting too obvious.”

 

Ron grabbed his cloak.  “Look, you’re going to have to tell them sometime.”  She scowled as this was obviously not the response she was hoping for.  “Alright, just put on your robes.  You’re not that big.  The robes will hide it, but…” he pointed a finger at her with raised eyebrows, “…we are going to tell them soon.”  Hermione grudgingly agreed and grabbed her work robes heading toward the Floo as Ron turned back to Draco.  “You coming, mate?”

 

“Me?  Coming where?”  Draco seemed very surprised.

 

“We’re going to my parents’ place.  It’s not the lap of luxury like Malfoy Manor, but it’s home and you’re welcome to join us for dinner if you want.”

 

Hermione had her arms around Ron’s bicep as he stood by the hearth.  Draco looked to her, making sure that she agreed with this invitation.  Her smile confirmed it and he quickly gathered his robes and followed them to the Floo.  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, given my history.”

 

“Nonsense.  If I say you’re welcome, then you’re welcome.  No one is going to curse you in our home.  So, you coming?”

 

“Um…well, if you’re sure…yeah, that would be great.  Thanks!”

 

*** 

 

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were shocked, to say the least, when Draco Malfoy stepped out of their fireplace.  Draco stayed back, ready to make a hasty exit should the scene turn volatile.  He knew his previous actions, coupled by his obvious distorted heritage did little to make him a welcome presence in this home.  Ron and Hermione had both stepped into the room before Ron noticed the stunned expressions on his mother and father’s faces and he turned back to see a very worried Draco.  Hermione noticed as well and went back, taking Draco by the arm and pulling him into the room.

 

“Mum.  Dad.  You’ve both met Draco Malfoy, right?”  Ron smiled as Hermione dragged Draco toward him.  His parents only nodded.  “Well, I invited him to join us for dinner.  I figure any man who stood up to his father with Harry and saved Hermione from those creeps deserves our thanks.  So, what do you say?”

 

Mr. Weasley’s expression seemed to snap from shock to pleasure.  “Well, of course!  Welcome, Draco.  Please come in.”  He walked over, shaking Draco’s hand and pulling him into the room.

 

“Why, yes, of course.  I have plenty.  You are welcome to stay for dinner.”  Mrs. Weasley started rubbing her hands on her apron, a small smile on her face.  She turned back toward the kitchen, still watching the blonde over her shoulder as she left the room.

 

Bill already knew of Draco’s participation, having seen some of it himself, so, he wasn’t all that surprised to see him, but when the twins showed up, Draco tried to stay away from them as much as possible.  Harry arrived about fifteen minutes later and they all settled down to eat.

 

Afterwards, Ron delivered their results to Bill and Harry, and both read the poem, although nothing immediate seemed to happen.  However, Bill was intrigued and started comparing the poem to the story details that he knew.  

 

“Well, one thing we know for sure is that this isn’t the actual text of the curse.”  Bill was now pacing the room.  “However, this could be part of the story, part of what actually happened.”  He set the parchment back on the table and read the first part.

 

“She hath lost her love, having mourned now for years, Her penance was served, through her prayers and her tears.”  Everyone looked at each other with absent expressions and shrugs of miscomprehension.  Hermione finally spoke.  “Well, the she is supposed to be represented by Ginny, right?”

 

Ron, Bill and Harry all nodded their heads.  Draco was sitting quietly to the side, totally lost in the process.  Hermione continued.  “So, if she lost her love and mourned for years, praying and crying, then Ginny would need to go through the same thing, right?”

 

Ron almost didn’t want to speak for fear of upsetting Harry, but finally decided that he had to contribute.  “Well, Ginny did cry and pray a lot over the past six or seven years.”

 

Harry added. “Maybe, but she wasn’t mourning anyone.”

 

“Actually, in a way she was.  She was mourning the loss of you.”  Ron stood feet apart, arms crossed over his chest as he continued.  “Ginny’s been in love with you for years and you never noticed her.  She cried and prayed a lot, always hoping to have you in her life.  That could be part of this.”

 

Harry sat down numbly.  “Well, that makes me feel just great.”  

 

Hermione quickly came to his side.  “He didn’t say it to make you feel bad.  It’s just a fact.  It doesn’t matter now because you’re together.  Come on.  Look at this and let’s see what else we can figure out.”  

 

Her hand rested on his shoulder, offering a slight squeeze and Harry pulled the parchment toward him.  The rest of the group pulled in closer as well, however, Draco remained distant until Harry noticed him by himself across the room.  

 

“Draco, come on over here.  You’re not the enemy anymore, you’re part of us and you need to act like it.”  

 

Draco hesitated, thinking to himself, _‘The enemy?  Yeah, I guess I was the enemy.’_   Slowly, he stood and moved marginally closer.  That is, until Harry, re-reading the poem again, swung around with a questioning look toward Draco and then glanced back at the parchment again.

 

“Um…guys.  For faith did not jar, as an enemy did turn _._   Could…could that be Draco?”  Harry pondered, glancing around at the gathered faces, hoping for acknowledgement from the cluster of friends before him.

 

“Whoa!”  Ron exclaimed with a deep rush of breath.  “Could very well be.  This is creepy.”

 

Hermione nodded in agreement, but Harry and Bill had turned back to the document again.

  

 Bill took the lead once more. “This is all really good and makes a lot of sense.  I can’t think of any other parts that match up with us at the moment, but let’s keep thinking.” 

 

Ron, Harry and Draco all decided to head off to get some sleep, but Hermione said she wasn’t tired and sat down at the table, piles of parchment laid out before her.   Flipping through the stack, Hermione spied something curious.  It was a drawing of a symbol, something that she recognized.  She picked it up.  “I’ve seen this before.”  Looking up from his notes, Bill replied, “You have?  Where?”

 

“I can’t remember.  What do you know about it?”

 

“Not much.  It has something to do with the Sun god, Ra.”  He rifled through a stack of books and finally pulled one out and dropped it in front of Hermione.  “I think there’s something in here about it.”

 

Hermione paged through the book until she found a picture of the symbol and read the caption, which as Bill had stated, didn’t say much except that it represented the ‘Triumvirate of Light,’ who would protect the world from evil.

  

***

 

Not quite winter, but a bit past autumn.  Most of the leaves had long since left their branches, blanketing the Hogwarts grounds in shades of gold, orange and brown.  The castle began to get cool enough that it now felt wonderful to sit in front of a roaring fire in the evening and Ginny even enjoyed pulling out her mum’s hand knitted sweater with the ‘G’ on the front.  It was warm and comforting, a little piece of home.  Yes, she had her classmates and lots of homework to keep her busy, but sitting in the Common Room without Ron, Hermione or Harry just wasn’t the same.

 

Harry was true to his word, sending multiple letters every week.  Some were shorter with simple news of everyday, mundane tasks, a few others more involved and detailed.  Every single one, however, made mention of either his remorse, his feelings of longing or his love for her, and each one was treasured and kept in a small box under Ginny’s bed.

 

On this particular morning, Ginny became conscious of her surroundings as she lay in bed, lost in the lingering sensations of a wonderful dream.  Already, the images were starting to dwindle and she tried to wish herself back into that state so that she could resume her dream.

 

_She was lying on a beautiful chaise lounge, curtains of silk draped all around her.  The light of torches flickering and bouncing off the stone walls of the room, cast playful shadows in the darkness.  She noticed the light blue tunic she wore and gold bracelets on her wrists.  She heard a door open and the shuffle of footsteps, bare footsteps, coming across the room.  Her dream self knew that this was her love and she got up and ran toward him.  Suddenly she was in his arms and she was safe and loved.  He smelled of eucalyptus oil, pungent, but sweet and then she found herself lying on a large canopied bed, his lips working his way across her neck.  He pulled up and she saw…_ Harry!

 

Her eyes had burst open, but the crystal clear vision of Harry from her dream was right there in the front of her mind.  His hair was a little longer and he wore gold around his neck, however, the face, the eyes, the hair, it was all Harry.  After her initial shock, she felt a smile creeping across her face, for he was still her favorite subject and she felt a bit less homesick.

 

 


	30. Chapter 30 - These Dreams

  
Author's notes:

Thank you all so much for the intriguing reviews.  I can see all of you starting to put the pieces together.  This chapter is more cerebral, but hang in there as we reach the exciting end in just a few more chapters!  All you Harry/Ginny fans will enjoy this, but Ron and Hermione will be back in full force soon.  Eternal gratitude to my beta Indie and to missgranger2 for her continuing moral support!

 

* * *

For more than a week, Harry experienced dream-filled sleep.  Some were pleasant, but most had a sinister ending.  However, all of them revolved around the same characters.  Harry was still dressed in ancient Egyptian attire and Ginny still in her blue robe and almost every dream brought with it increasing intimacy.  Those parts Harry enjoyed.  The other parts weren’t as nice.  Some involved the giant snake, sometimes a crystal dagger targeting his chest and once a thunderous dust storm tried to suffocate him.  Each time he recognized the same guards standing nearby, but never coming to his aid and each time they would repeat ‘it is our obligation to protect you.’  The funny part was that he could never really see who they were.  It was just an image of a body, no face, but they were always there.

 

Harry started writing everything down and relaying this information to Bill and Hermione almost daily.  He also upped his work out regimen with Remus and Tonks.  Soon Kingsley joined in as well to offer more training.  At first, Harry thought that if he exhausted himself enough during the day that sound sleep would surely be his reward.  Conversely, as the dreams continued, his perspective changed and he considered that this might be some kind of warning of the rapidly approaching finale.  He expanded his repertoire by delving into hand-to-hand combat, wandless magic, dueling techniques, even some kind of modified martial arts.  He also practiced advanced high-speed Apparition, learning to focus his mind and move from spot to spot within a fraction of a second without splinching himself.  

 

It was during one of these training sessions that he discovered another oddity.  Kingsley  was dueling with him and right in the middle of a very heated exchange, Harry began to hear Kingsley’s thoughts.  They spoke to him, softly at first, but then increased in volume so that it was as if he was telling Harry exactly what he was going to do next.  The first time this occurred, Harry asked him why he was speaking so loud during a duel.  Getting a very curious look, it occurred to Harry that not only Kingsley, but his other two trainers thought him daft and he considered that he was daydreaming.  The second time, Harry just shook his head, trying to clear the sounds from his consciousness, aware that Remus was now looking concerned.

  

  _Yeah, well I’d be concerned, too, if my student were suddenly hearing voices._

 

“Harry?  Are you alright?”  All three of them looked at each other, probably thinking Harry had gone off the deep end.

 

“I’m fine.  Let’s go.”  Harry called out another spell and quickly jumped high in the air as Kingsley clearly responded with a leg locker curse.

 

“Wait!  How did you know to jump on that one?”

 

“I told you.  I can hear you calling out your curses.  You have to be more silent.  I know that you, in particular, can use wandless magic and can also manage silent curses on many of these.  So, why don’t you?  You need to be dueling with me the way that Voldemort will!  He won’t call out his curses.  He’ll just strike and I’ll find myself flat on my back.”  

 

Harry sliced through the air with his wand, his irritation apparent as he turned to resume his starting position.

  

  _What, are they just toying with me?  I need to be challenged!_  

 

“Bugger!”  If he couldn’t react to Voldemort’s wandless and silent magic, he’d be dead.  He was winded, but took the dueling stance again, ready for Kingsley to continue.  However, all three of his mentors stood and stared at him with a kind of wide-eyed terror.  This made him even more irate.

 

“What is WRONG with you three!”

 

Remus, always the voice of reason, cut in with a soothing tone.  “Harry, I don’t think that you are aware of what is happening here.  I’ve been watching the duel between the two of you and not once has Kingsley called out a curse.  They have all been silent or wandless or both.”

 

“But I heard him!”

 

“Maybe you need to take a break, get some water, maybe some sleep.  I think you’ve been training a bit too hard this week.”

 

“NO!  I’m fine.  This isn’t a matter of exhaustion or dehydration, Remus.  I am hearing what he is calling out.”  He turned to address Kingsley.  “Go ahead, throw a series of curses at me.  I’ll bet you that I can out maneuver them all and tell you exactly what you called.  Go ahead.”

 

Harry dropped his arms to his side, standing feet apart and staring intently at Kingsley who, looking to his two associates, shrugged and then kinked his neck as if to straighten himself out.  Both took a dueling stance.  About three seconds later Kingsley fired off a series of curses, none of them spoken and two without a wand.  The jets of light shot from his wand or hand, each time Harry moving out of the way a split second before impact, and each landing harmlessly on a rock, some grass or a nearby tree, which was a bit scorched from all the hits.

 

“Whoa, Harry!” Tonks exclaimed.  “How did you _do_ that!  I mean, that was amazing!”

 

Harry faced Remus, wand pointed at the ground, his deep breaths expanding his defiant chest.  “You try it now,” he taunted.  “Throw anything you want at me.  Throw the Cruciatus.”

 

“No!” Tonks yelled.  “Harry, that’s too dangerous and too painful.  Even if we lift it immediately, it just does too much damage to your system.”  Tonks exchanged a worried glance with Remus.

 

“I’m telling you, it won’t hit me.”  Harry looked smug, crossing his arms over his lion-hearted chest, staring unblinkingly at the three instructors.

 

“Okay, okay, I believe you.”  Remus finally spoke up.  “I’m not sure what has happened here, but I believe you can hear the curses.  However, with Voldemort’s ability to enter your mind, these skills might not be available to you when the time comes.”

 

Now Harry’s fists went to his hips.  “I’ve been practicing my Occlumency.  I meditate almost every evening.”  He threw his arms up in disbelief and began to trample down the grass before him.  “Even when Voldemort was angry about Hermione’s kidnapping, I noticed it, but it didn’t hurt.  Not like it used to.  It used to feel like my head was going to explode at any second and I could feel him pushing against my mind, but not this time.”  He pointed his wand at Remus to make a point.  “I still sensed him, but without any pain, without the pressure.  It’s been different and I don’t know why.”

 

*** 

 

Harry also took time out twice to meet with the D.A., once at a specified, secret, location for regular personnel, and once in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts.  Ginny was the top dueler in the D.A. at school and Harry used her quite extensively to teach the younger students.  With those rather seductive dreams still fresh in his mind, he rather enjoyed working with her as closely as possible.  After a rigorous ninety minutes, Harry dismissed the group and started picking up the pillows and repairing a few of the items that had been damaged during the duels.  The silence in the room was almost as thick as the tension as his eyes darted to her on multiple occasions.

 

Ginny didn’t speak but stayed to help, herself shooting him heated glances as soon as the last member left the room.  She was stacking up a bunch of pillows when she felt a pair of warm arms encircling her waist.  

 

“Hmm, you smell good, Gin.”  

 

She turned and found herself falling back onto a stack of pillows with a smiling, green-eyed boy coming down with her.  She should say the green-eyed monster, not because of any jealousy on his part, but because of the maniacal look on his face.  If it weren’t for his smile, Ginny had to admit, she would have been scared.  Instead, she was excited.  He was obviously overjoyed to see her and spent the next twenty minutes snogging her deeper and deeper into the pile of pillows until she finally sunk to the floor.

 

Unfortunately, their time together was limited and when Harry had to leave about twenty minutes later, Ginny tried several, rather enticing maneuvers to keep him with her.  In the end, both of them left the room trying to readjust clothing and pat down some disheveled hair.

 

*** 

 

When not at work, Bill and Hermione spent every waking moment looking through all the old texts, trying to find more on that symbol.  Bill had found some of his original notes, but it didn’t tell them enough to be truly helpful.

 

“You know, I think our best bet is for me to go back to Egypt and re-interview our contact there about this curse.”

 

Ron walked into the room.  “I should go, too.”  He immediately caught Hermione’s eye and noticed the look on her face, that ‘I don’t want you to go’ expression hidden inside the furrowed brows and Ron cocked his head at her mouthing ‘what?’

 

Bill glanced up to see Hermione raising her brows to Ron in some kind of unspoken communication.  “Ron, I don’t think you have to go,” Bill interjected.

 

Ron replied without taking his eyes off of Hermione.  “I know I don’t have to go, but I think I should.”  

 

Still watching her, he waited to see what her answer would be to his latest argument.  When she only continued to stare him down, he was forced to look away and found his brother’s eyes who had been watching this whole silent exchange with curiosity.  The chair scraped back and Hermione got up and left the room.  Ron looked a bit bewildered as she stomped off and he rubbed a hand over his mouth, considering whether he should follow her.  Bill finally urged him on.  “You’d better go talk to her.”

 

The next morning, Bill stopped at the Burrow to find Ron, yawning, his hair a mess, sitting at the kitchen table, appearing hungover.  “So, little brother, are you coming with me today?”

 

“Um…no,” he said looking a bit ashamed.  “I’m staying here.”

 

“Am I correct that you had a somewhat emotional evening with a certain pregnant lady?”

 

As if on cue, Molly surprised both of them as she entered the kitchen from the back garden.  “Pregnant lady?  Who’s pregnant?”

 

Ron’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he looked to his brother for support.  Bill could tell that Ron wasn’t prepared to share his news right at the moment and that he’d had a tough night so, he decided it best to keep it quiet.

 

“Oh, just a lady at work who’s having a rough time of it, Mum.”

 

Molly set down her watering can on the counter.  “Yes, I know how it is.  I got quite emotional at various times while I carried each of you.  I almost went off the deep end when I was carrying _you_ ,” she pointed at Bill, “and your father got a job offer to head off to Australia and he wanted to check it out.  All I could picture was him being hurt or killed and leaving me along with this baby.”  She wiped her hands on a towel and picked up the daily post on the counter, perusing the stack.  Something made her pause and turn back to Bill.  “William.”

 

A mother’s tone is sometimes enough to put the fear of all things great and small into even the bravest of men and Bill was no exception.  “Yes, Mum.”

 

“Is Fleur pregnant and you’re just covering up?”

 

“What?  No.  No!  Fleur is not pregnant.”  Just then Harry walked in and looked around the room, hearing Bill’s rebuke.

 

Molly put her hands on her hips and scrutinized Bill’s face for the truth and he shrunk within, his fortitude replaced by a little five year old’s fear.  His mother was always able to tell if he was lying when he was a little boy.  That look was unnerving.  Luckily, he had nothing to hide in this case and just smiled faintly, still unsure if he had been released from Molly’s hook.

 

“Well, I sure would like to see a grandchild _sometime_ soon.”  For some unknown reason, she squinted directly at Harry.  “But not from any of my unmarried children.”

 

Harry turned a rosy shade of pale, the hue of embarrassed terror racing over him and he rocked back as if he had an urge to dash from the room, but his gaze couldn’t help but turn to look at Ron who luckily, was not on his mother’s radar at the moment.  Ron had closed his eyes for a moment, but he must have sensed Harry’s attention and opened his eyes for his friend.  Not a breath could be heard as all three of the men just stared at each other, all very aware of the secret they were hiding and all knowing that should they let it slip, the fury of a certain female in the room would be far worse then anything Voldemort could dish out.

 

“Why is every body so quiet this morning?”  Molly had gone back to her cleaning, but turned back around, a towel in her hand.

 

“Oh, um…nothing, Mum.  Just thinking about this trip.  I’d better be going so I can get back here soon.”  Bill grabbed his rucksack and walked past his little brother, squeezing his shoulder in support as he left the room.  

 

*** 

 

Bill’s trip ended up taking several days and upon returning and spending a couple of days with his wife, he finally got back to the Burrow with the information.  After Apparating into the garden late on Friday, Bill entered the kitchen to a serenade of very loud voices echoing from the parlor.  It took a moment for Bill to discern the source of the commotion; Ginny’s head was screaming from the Floo and her Mother was on the receiving end.

 

“You don’t understand what it’s like!”  Ginny was obviously in tears.

 

“Dear, I’m sure it’s not that bad and if Professor McGonagall…”

 

“I don’t CARE what Professor McGonagall says.  You either let me come home this weekend or I’ll sneak out of here on my own!”

 

“You will do no such thing, young lady!”  Molly’s fists were now firmly planted on her hips.  She was dug in for a fight and Bill knew it.  “It is not safe for you to be out by yourself!”

 

Ginny recognized her older brother and, unfortunately for him, drew him into the conversation. 

 

“Bill, you tell her.  She’ll listen to you!”

 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

 

“Oh, it’s nothing, darling.  You needn’t concern yourself.”

 

“WHAT?”  Bill couldn’t help but cringe at the sheer volume of Ginny’s rebuttal.  “He’s involved in this just as much as any of us.  Bill, I’ve had three really horrible dreams.  Something bad is going to happen to Harry.  He told me about this curse thing and I just know this has something to do with it.  Please!  Something really, really bad is going to happen and I can’t see him.  I need to see him.  I need to be with him.  I can’t stand being at this school one more minute!”

 

“Did you write down the dreams?”  Bill moved toward the hearth and crouched down in front of it.

 

“No.  They were HORRIBLE.  Now, either I get to come home and see Harry myself or…or…”

 

“Gin…”  Bill warned.  “Just wait.  Don’t do something stupid.  How about I find Harry and bring him here and you can talk via the Floo?”

 

Ginny got very quiet and sniffed back the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks.  She nodded her head and Bill stood back up.  “Let me try to find him and I’ll be right back.”

 

Bill exited the room as Molly paced hearing a soft crack a few seconds later.  After about five minutes he appeared again, Harry in tow.  The evident concern on Harry’s face carried through to his quickened pace as he followed Bill toward the hearth.

 

“Ginny.”  He knelt down in front of the fire.

 

“Harry!  Are you alright?  Oh, Merlin, I had three of the worst dreams of my life.”  Her voice filled with anguish as her pace increased.  “You’re in danger, Harry.  I just know it.  I dreamt it, but it wasn’t any ordinary dream.  This was real.  You were….”  Her chest heaved with sobs, interrupting her voice.  “You…you were covered in…in blood and…and….Oh…”  Her hand slipped over her mouth as if trying to restrain her stomach from a violent eruption.

 

Harry turned a pleading glance over his shoulder at Molly who frowned, clearly affected by the cries of her daughter.  “Please, Mrs. Weasley?”

 

Molly walked up to the hearth.  “Move aside, Ginny.”

 

“No!!  Mum, please!!” she wailed.

 

“It’s alright dear, now move aside.”

 

Molly crouched into the pseudo flame, replacing Ginny’s presence.  “Minerva.  Would you please authorize a weekend pass for Ginny to come home?  I’ll send her back through the Floo on Sunday evening at six o’clock.  Thank you, Minerva.”

 

Molly grunted with a hand on her knee and Bill helped her stand back up as she backed away.  A few seconds later, the flame burst green and Ginny came tumbling out of the fireplace crashing into the waiting arms of Harry.  Her shaking shoulders prompted Molly toward action, but Bill put a restraining hand on his mother’s arm and spoke softly so that only she would hear.

 

“Mum, she needs Harry right now.  Come on.  Let’s have a cup of tea.”

 

*** 

 

Harry managed to coax her off the floor and into a more comfortable position on the sofa.  The fireplace returned to its normal tenor as Ginny struggled to slow her breathing.  He’d never seen her this upset – it was unusual for Ginny to cry openly about anything.  Perhaps being proceeded by six brothers had a sobering effect on her when it came to public displays of emotion.  She was always the pillar of strength, the calm voice of reason – never playing the hysterical female.  Hence the fact that Harry was unsure of his response to this overwhelmingly clingy woman.  Somehow, instinct kicked in and he pulled her into his lap, whispering gentle shushing noises and words of assurance as she pressed her head into his chest.

 

“I’m fine, Gin.  Relax.  I’m here, safe and sound.”

 

“I know…I’m sorry…but it was just so awful.”  She sat up fully to look into his face.  Her eyes were puffy and red, her nose running and her skin flushed.  Harry smiled internally, realizing that even looking a mess, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  “I woke up screaming.  I scared my roommates to death.”

 

He thumbed away the tears on her cheeks with a faint smile.  “Well, at least they had an interesting night.”

 

“It’s not funny, Harry.”  She swatted at his arm and nested back against him, her hand fisting the front of his t-shirt.

 

“I know.  I didn’t mean to diminish the gravity of the situation.”  He rubbed her arm in response.

 

“Diminish the gravity of the situation?  What…did you study a dictionary today?”

 

There was his Gin.  He couldn’t help but chuckle at recognizing her usual self shining through the tears.  Somewhere a smile was trying to break through.  He would just have to coax it out.

 

“Well, you know, have to try and keep up with Hermione and since she is a walking encyclopedia, I figured I’d be a walking dictionary.  Maybe you can take up the Thesaurus or something and we can be a box set.”

 

Finally, she laughed.  It was stuttered with a big sniff in between, but it did the trick.  Harry withdrew a hanky and offered it to her realizing that his t-shirt was probably already past saving.  She scooted off his lap, blew her nose with an adorable honk and puffed out a huge breath.  Harry patted his leg and she put her head back down using his thigh as a pillow.

 

“I’m sorry to blubber like this.  I always hate women that act like this…” sniff “…and here I am, making a spectacle of myself.”

 

How he had missed her.  The feel of her hair in his hand was glorious.  It smelled exactly as he remembered and felt even better.  While one hand filtered her copper strands through his fingers, the other drew tiny patterns on her shoulder blade.  

 

“I’m the one with the spectacles, remember?”

 

“Ha ha.”

 

Harry’s eyes enjoyed a trip down memory lane as he reacquainted himself with all her bountiful curves.  Ginny had always been muscular and lean, but she looked a bit thin to him, her denims slipping down her hips to reveal the top edge of some pink knickers.  Still, he knew this wasn’t the time for any romantic gestures and calmly stroked her hair.

 

The fire crackled, the voices hummed from the kitchen and soon Ginny’s breathing settled into a pattern of sleep, something Harry assumed she hadn’t enjoyed much of in the past few days.

 

*** 

 

Later that evening, Bill asked Hermione to go over the results of his trip at the kitchen table.  She had resorted to wearing very baggy, loose-fitting sweaters or wizard robes in an effort to cover up her growing stomach, something that had finally garnered Molly’s attention.

 

“Hermione dear.  We need to take you shopping soon.”

 

“We do?”

 

“Well, dear, it’s obvious that you’ve taken a liking to the wizarding robes instead of your usual muggle attire and well, you’ve been in the same robes every time I’ve seen you.”

 

Hermione nearly went in to a panic.  “Oh, um…well, they’re terribly comfortable.  I suppose I could use another set.”

 

Bill saved the day once again.  “Mum!  Are you making my favorite dessert for tomorrow?”

 

Molly turned back to her kitchen.  “Well, of course, dear.  Do you want it with or without the coconut?”

 

“With would be great.”  That seemed to send Molly back to her task and Bill placed his hand on Hermione’s arm to offer her his slightest sense of composure.

 

“Alright, now, let’s get back to the business at hand, shall we?”  Hermione nodded and Bill pulled out his notes.  “I was directed to a temple that had the symbol carved into a wall and below it was an engraving.”

 

Hermione pulled the parchment from his hand and read it to herself:

 

  _One shall be of the mid-day Sun, bright, white and obvious.  The second one of the dusk and dawn, of orange and purple, comforting and bringing new life.  Together they must rely on the third, the black one with eyes of the cat, the beast marked from the storm, for he will save them all.  The two of day must protect the one of night as the heavens will open forth and return the evil to the dust of the earth._

 

“Why does everything have to be a bloody poem?  Couldn’t these people just spell things out!  I mean, is it so difficult to just be blunt?”  Bill grinned at her rantings, clearly sensing the same frustrations in her that he had felt over the past several months.  “Bill, could I keep this for a while?”  She pulled the parchment out of the stack as Bill nodded.  “Has anyone recorded Ginny’s latest dreams?”

 

“No.  She was a bit too upset before.”

 

“Let me go and talk to her and I’ll see what I can get.”  She rolled up the document carefully as she stood and made her way back toward the parlor.  Ginny was asleep in Harry’s lap, his fingers intertwined in her hair, his mouth open in a soft snore with his head tipped back against the sofa.  Hermione gently nudged his arm and he snorted as his head popped up to look around the room.

 

“Harry.  I’m sorry to wake you.”

 

“What?  Oh, I was just resting my eyes for a moment.”

 

“I need to talk to Ginny.  Do you think she’s up for it?”

 

Harry stroked Ginny’s cheek and in a few seconds her eyes fluttered open.  Stuffed up from all the crying, Ginny caught a drop of drool in the corner of her mouth, wiping the back of her hand to catch it.

 

“Wh-what time is it?” she asked.

 

“A bit after nine.  Gin, Hermione needs to talk to you.  Why don’t you two chat.  I need to see Bill for a bit.”  He kissed the top of Ginny’s head and strolled into the kitchen.

 

*** 

 

The look on Harry’s face when he entered the kitchen told Bill that he was still reeling from Ginny’s emotional roller-coaster ride.  Harry slipped off his glasses and rubbed his face and head, as if trying to wake up from a torturous night, but unable to do so.  In that moment, Bill actually admired the man even more.  He had a unique ability - a tact about him, a sense of humor and it appeared a great deal of affection for his fireball of a sister.  If anyone could handle her, it was Harry.  As Harry set the glasses back on his nose, he must have noted Bill’s scrutiny and tossed him a brave smile before he pulled up a chair at the end of the long wooden table.

 

“Bill, I need to tell you something.  I-I need some advice.”

 

Something about Harry’s demeanor spelled seriousness and Bill gave him his undivided attention for the moment.  He actually thought that this was going to have to do with Ginny, based on the days’ activities.  So, his mind started to switch into ‘brother mode’ instinctively.  

 

“What is it?”

 

Harry folded his hands and looked down at the table.  “Do you know what a Horcrux is?”

 

Bill had that deer in the headlights look for a few seconds as he tried to switch gears and scan his memory for any lessons or readings he had done on this odd topic.

 

“I’ve heard of them, yes.  Why?”

 

Harry proceeded to go back and explain how Dumbledore had started him on this journey, one that so far had only resulted in the acquisition and destruction of two of the items.  It occurred to Bill, as he listened to Harry’s monologue, just how stressful the past two years had been for the boy.  His dedication to the task - and to Dumbledore’s beliefs - were admirable, and the frustration with having only found two, was an obvious sore spot.

 

Bill was amazed at the amount of information the boy had on the topic.  His research into the subject, something he was sure Hermione had helped with, revealed in-depth knowledge of the founders, their lives and passions.  Bill surmised that Harry knew more about the history of the school and its making than the most learned professors in the wizarding population.

 

Several times Harry paused, his eyes firmly fixed on Bill giving him the impression that he was being appraised as if to determine whether he was worthy to know such intimate details of Harry’s life and relationships.  Each time, however, he continued, rapidly expounding on the nature and relevance of his work.  At one point, Bill actually felt privileged to be sitting in his presence, as if this young boy before him was sharing the wisdom of a life not yet lived, but one that would surely be studied in the history books that his children would read someday.

 

“So, you see, I’m wondering if none of this really matters.”  Harry gestured to the numerous books and stacks of parchment scattered on the table.

 

“What do you mean?”  It was the first Bill had spoken in nearly twenty minutes.

 

“Well, even if this curse is reversing, giving me some new power…does it really matter if I can’t kill him anyway?”  The way in which his shoulders slumped when he let out a deep breath just demonstrated how carrying this encumbrance had been exhausting.

 

*** 

 

Harry had really hoped for an answer.  Any answer.  Bill was usually full of hypotheses, theories and plans and Harry desperately wanted some form of conjecture, of hope, that he could turn into his next goal.  Bill’s muteness sent Harry’s head falling back in fatigue.

 

Then two words.  Just two, but they were wonderful to Harry’s ears.  “Not necessarily.”

 

When Harry reconnected with Bill, he could see the gears turning, his eyes shifting around as he put his full concentration in on the topic.  He didn’t even bother getting up, but called out rather loudly, “Hermione!”

 

A moment later, Hermione and Ginny stood in the doorway, each with a curious look, although Ginny still had that image of underlying distress, lack of sleep and a certain lingering embarrassment.

 

Bill wasted no time as soon as he sensed their presence.  “Hermione, what are Portent’s Precise Hierarchy of Magic?”

 

Lifting her head with pride, she recited the magical order, a rule taught to them in their first year, as if a champion on the subject.  “Charm, Conjure, Transfigure, Potion, Spell, Hex, Curse, Possession and Plague.”  Except for a minor pause to breath in the middle, Harry proved himself right - astounded at the walking encyclopedia before him. 

 

“Gee whiz, Hermione.  Who needs books when we have you around!”

 

Hermione offered a weak smile, coupled with a look of returned sarcasm.  She was about to ask why Bill wanted to know, but he cut in.

 

“Harry, I assume they know?”  Harry nodded and Bill continued, directing his question at Hermione again.

 

“If the creation of a Horcrux requires a spell, then doesn’t it reason that a curse would overpower it?”

 

“Well, yes, I suppose.  However, only if the curse were used to reverse the spell.  If the cursed killed you in the first place…well, not you, but the prince…then lifting the curse would mean you would have to live.  Any spell that tries to interfere would be countered by the curse’s effects.”

 

“True.  So, if Voldemort has split his soul into” he looked to Harry, “how many pieces?”

 

Harry now seemed intrigued and he stood, placing his hands on the table before him.  “Seven, we think.”

 

“Seven.  Then, there has to be a way for those seven pieces to be destroyed.”  Bill started mumbling.  “Families and Sister, Save Seven and Sevens.”

 

Harry slapped the table and threw his hands back in frustration.  “All of these riddles are driving me mad!  Poems and chests and scrolls and none of it means anything!”  

 

Ginny ran to him immediately and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head against his chest, willing her body to offer him comfort and her torture an end.  He sobered quickly, noting how his anger and frustration only increased her angst and his voice dropped in decibels.  “I’m sorry.”  His arms snaked around her.  “I didn’t mean to yell.  I know you’re all trying to help me.”

 

Everyone stood quiet in the kitchen, except for Ginny’s soft sniffles against Harry’s chest.

 

“Gin,” Bill interrupted.  “I need to know precise details about your dreams.”

 

Ginny didn’t want to repeat them, but with some coaxing and with Harry straddling the bench to sit closely behind her, she recounted three of the most abhorrent dreams that any of them had heard.  Even Bill flinched as he wrote down the information.  Harry occasionally closed his eyes in a grimace, but tried to keep himself and Ginny distracted from the horror of it by whispering assuring words in her ear and holding her close.

 

Midnight found the men talked out, Hermione asleep on her arms at the table, Ginny curled up in a chair that Harry had brought in from the parlor.

 

“Looks like our two ladies have had a tiring day.” Bill observed.  “Speaking of, there is a lovely French one waiting for me at home.”  He carefully pushed away from the table, stacking up the books and papers.  “Can you manage these two?”

 

“Yeah.  Thanks, Bill.  Get some sleep.”

    


	31. Chapter 31 - Acceptance

  
Author's notes:

Thank you to Indie for her support and superb beta skills!  Alright all you Ron and Hermione fans...this is the moment you were waiting for.  Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 

 

The following day was Bill’s birthday, an event that always centered on Molly Weasley’s culinary skills.  Seeing the spread she put out was enough to make your mouth water and your eyes bulge.  And so, the family was always very keen on being in attendance for this event.  Although the Weasleys were already close-knit, an understatement indeed, they rarely missed an opportunity to come together for celebrations.

 

Molly decorated with colorful leaves and garland on the table, reminiscent of November’s fading colors.  She placed plates of dried fruits, fudge, nuts and other candies on the table for the taking.  The fire crackled with a merry attitude as each of the Weasley children arrived.  Bill and Fleur Apparated in with a softer arrival, as their Apparition skills were more honed than the younger brothers.  Percy and Penelope arrived soon after, appearing, however, in the garden and walking up to ring the bell at the front.  Molly opened the door and immediately smiled and pulled them into the house, fussing that they didn’t need to ring first.  Percy still acted a little hesitant about just showing up in the house, seemingly afraid there was still lingering negativity between himself and his brothers and clearly not wanting to cause a scene.

 

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione all appeared a few minutes later, Hermione and Harry taking the Floo.  It was obvious that Hermione didn’t care for it and was dusting off the soot from her billowing burgundy dress robes.

 

“Hermione, dear, why didn’t you just Apparate?  You don’t want to mess up your beautiful robes!”

 

“Oh, um, just didn’t feel like it today.”

 

Fleur stood just feet away, speaking with Charlie before she stepped into the room.  “Hermione!  It iz good to see you.  Do you remember my little zizter, Gabrielle?”  

 

She turned to reveal her little sister.  It had been years since the Triwizard Tournament when Gabrielle Delacour had visited Hogwarts and Harry had pulled her from the lake.  She was just a little girl at the time, but now stood a beautiful, matured-looking fourteen year-old with bright blue eyes and long silver-blonde hair that fell gracefully in a plait down her back.  

 

Hermione blinked at the radiance in the girl and smiled.  “Oh, yes, it’s good to see you again, Gabrielle.”

 

“And you az vell.”  Gabrielle offered Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek and then returned to the conversation with Charlie and Fleur.  Hermione did a quick check to make sure that her robes were covering everything properly and weaved her way toward the center of all Weasley activity, the kitchen.  Crossing the threshold of the kitchen door brought a wave of noise and a rush of red hair that promptly grew louder with greetings from the twins and many of the girlfriends and significant others that were present.

 

“Hermione!  Long time no see.”  George added with a grin, eyeing her up and down.

 

“Or tease.”  Fred jumped in, whispering in her ear in a soon to be tennis match with his twin.  

 

“Or hug.”  George hugged her and then Fred leaned so close to her face that she saw two of him. 

 

 “Or infuriate.”

 

“Or kiss.”  George kissed her on the nose and Hermione quickly backed up, shoving him away playfully.  “Alright, you two, enough.”

 

“I think our favorite little researcher doesn’t appreciate our company.”  Fred joked, nudging George with a wink.

 

Ron witnessed this exchange and promptly pushed his way through the throngs, coming to her rescue.  “That’s enough, you two.  Leave her be.”  Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders, to which Hermione caved just slightly, resting against him.

 

Ron appeared very relaxed and was happy and smiling as the activity around them buzzed.  He leaned down, speaking to her softly.  “Hermione, you have to try some of Mum’s fudge and the pumpkin tarts.  They are out of this world.”  He nuzzled in to her cheek and gave her a quick kiss, something that brought a smile to her face before leading them toward the sideboard and pouring them each something to drink.

 

Percy nodded toward them, drink in hand, as he conversed with Charlie’s newest girlfriend.  Penelope had gone off to chat with Alicia, Fleur and Angelina.  Hermione sipped her juice and was enjoying Ron’s company when she noticed a head of white blonde hair coming through the door on the left.  In his usual guarded expression, Draco entered the kitchen and stopped to make sure, despite the invitation, he was welcome before proceeding further.  Hermione watched as Bill walked up behind him and offered a hand.

 

“Happy Birthday, Bill.”  He smiled and nodded somewhat stiffly, his old manners still shining through.

 

“Thank you, Draco.  Good to see you again.”

 

“Are you sure that everyone is comfortable having me here?”

 

“We’ve been through this before.”

 

“I know.  Still, I want to be sure.  This is your birthday celebration and it would be abhorrent for me to spoil the festivities.”

 

Bill smiled at Draco’s formal speech and finally tugged on him.  “Come on in.  Let me introduce you to a few other people.”  Bill walked up to Penelope and Alicia, who both stopped their conversation with paled response upon seeing the familiar Malfoy resemblance.  “Alicia.  Penelope.  Do you both know Draco Malfoy?”

 

Penelope spoke first, as Alicia appeared too stunned.  “Um…I believe you were about five years behind me at Hogwarts.”

 

“Yes, that would be correct.  It’s very nice to meet you.”  Draco offered a hand, but as Penelope offered hers for a supposed handshake, she got a kiss on the top of her hand instead.

 

Bill rolled his eyes and glanced at Hermione upon observing the typical Malfoy mannerism.  Hermione noted how Draco often reverted to his formal nature when he felt uncomfortable.  It was like seeing his father reincarnate, only without the wickedness.  Bill appeared to try and break the tension by touting some of the man’s accomplishments.  “Draco was responsible for the capture of Lucius Malfoy and for saving Harry and Hermione’s life last month.  I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

 

Alicia finally found her voice with a noticeable swallow.  “Oh, yes.  That must have been difficult for you.  I mean with your father and all.”  She frowned, looking as if she wasn’t sure of her response.

 

Draco nodded, keeping his composure, appearing unsure himself.  “Well, they are my friends.  It wasn’t a difficult decision.”

 

The ladies just nodded as Draco noticed Hermione.  “Excuse me, ladies.”  He wound through the crowd toward her and Ron.  

 

“How are you, Draco?”  Hermione smiled meekly and offered a quick pseudo kiss on his cheek, merely brushing the air along his jaw.  She quickly pursed her lips, realizing the inappropriateness of her gesture – at least with the knowledge of his unrequited feelings towards her.  She couldn’t help but notice Ron’s eyes narrow a bit as he watched the man pick up a drink from the table behind him.  

 

“Feeling a bit like a fish out of water at the moment.”  Draco responded, his bright smile at Hermione fading to a more sobering one as he met Ron’s eyes.

 

“Nonsense,” Ron assured, standing firm, but with a friendly smile.  “You know you’re welcome.”

 

Molly called them all to dinner.  The table had been expanded and took up the entire room as everyone found a seat.  Draco stuck close to Hermione, but glanced at Ron before taking his seat with some kind of unspoken request for permission.  Ron slipped comfortably into a chair at her other side.  Harry and Ginny were also glued to one another across the table and Harry offered his greetings to Draco as well.  The food was excellent with Fred and George doing their usual best to stir up the crowd with stories of their latest inventions and discoveries.  

 

Draco turned to Hermione about halfway through dinner, whispering into her ear.  “Hermione, who is the blonde girl seated next to Harry?”

 

Hermione glanced at Draco’s face to find him staring at the blond and could nearly feel his stomach fluttering with excitement.  “Oh, that’s Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur’s little sister.”

 

“Oh, yes.  I didn’t recognize her.”  He worked on another mouthful of his dinner, eyes glancing to her on numerous occasions before he questioned Hermione again.  “So, how old is she now, exactly?”

 

“Hmm.  I guess she’s about fourteen.”  Hermione clearly noticed Draco’s infatuation and smiled, nudging him in the ribs.  “Would you like for me to introduce you to her?”

 

He cleared his throat and turned back to his dinner.  “Oh, um…no…that’s alright.  She’s a bit too young for my attentions.  I appreciate the offer, though.”  Hermione observed Draco for the rest of dinner and noticed how his eyes kept gravitating back toward the young half-veela at the end of the table.  She felt relieved that Draco had seemed to have found someone else to watch besides her.  After dinner, the ladies went to help Molly clean up the dishes and the men reduced and cleared the table and moved the furniture so that there would be room for dancing.  Fleur had specifically asked for dancing at Bill’s party and Bill wasn’t one to turn down a request from his gorgeous wife so, he made an effort to encourage the others to help get things ready.

 

The music started up, quick and lively as Molly brought out slices of cake, pudding and Bill’s favorite German Chocolate tarts with the coconut as requested.  Alicia, Angelina and Penelope all took to the floor and started twirling around in delight at the hip-hop music.  Molly smiled, but waved her hand as she returned to the kitchen; obviously this wasn’t her style of music.

 

Fleur pulled Bill and Gabrielle out on to the dance floor a few minutes later and soon, even some of the men had joined in.  Ron, however, stayed at Hermione’s side.  Harry and Ginny stood very close and talked quietly in a corner, hoping to not be noticed by the crowd.  Ron had heard about Ginny’s nightmares and her pleading to come home for the weekend.  So, he was glad to see that she appeared happy and relaxed.

 

This time it was Ron that noticed how Draco eyed Gabrielle and he whispered to Hermione that she should introduce them.  

 

“He’s a bit too old for her, isn’t he?” Hermione rebuked.

 

“I’m not saying you should invite him to her bedroom or anything, just introduce them.  What’s the harm in that?”  Ron argued back.

 

Hermione smiled, walked over to Draco and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor.  She approached the group and got Gabrielle’s attention as she danced, her blonde hair whipping around over her shoulder.

 

“Gaby.  I’d like you to meet someone.”  Gabrielle smiled and turned her eyes toward Draco.  “This is my friend, Draco.”

 

Gabrielle, in a gesture befitting royalty, did not offer her hand in the traditional handshake, but placed it before her palm down in a gesture that Draco seemed to enjoy immensely.  “It iz a pleazure to meet you, Draco.”  

 

He gently took her hand, placing a kiss on the top.  “And I’m delighted to meet you as well, Gabrielle.”

 

Hermione left the two of them, smiling at each other, and returned to Ron’s side.  Almost everyone was dancing and Ron took the opportunity to speak to Hermione quietly.  “Sweetheart, I think this would be a good time to spring our little family news.”

 

“What?”  Hermione turned around so that she was facing him and not the crowd.

 

“We can’t keep hiding this, and you know it.”  She shook her head and buried her face in Ron’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her.  She knew he was right, but facing the finality, an end to month’s worth of hiding left her flustered.  Just then the tempo changed as Bill turned on a much slower piece and everyone coupled up and began swaying to the music.

 

“Come on.  Let’s dance.”  Ron must have noticed her tension and gently entwined his fingers with hers, goading her toward the center of the room.  She slipped under his chin and he held her close as they joined the others, swaying to the beat.  Hermione shuddered, her respiration increasing, her grip firm on Ron’s shirt as she observed the other couples in the room.  

 

Bill had his eyes closed and appeared content beyond measure, his arms enclosing the slender waist of his wife who smiled in response.  Charlie, George, Fred and Percy each had their respective girlfriends held close and were talking quietly.  Harry and Ginny opted to dance together, but still in the corner of the room, away from most of the group.  Harry stroked her hair and rubbed little circles onto her back as their foreheads touched each other.  They seemed to dissolve into their own little world, each providing much needed comfort to the other.  Hermione turned, placing her right cheek against Ron’s chest and was pleased to see Draco and Gabrielle, smiling and talking as they danced at a more reserved and formal distance.

 

Ron turned them around and pulled back, nudging Hermione’s chin to his right where she again saw the birthday boy and his wife, both giggling softly at some private joke as they swayed.  Ron tipped his head down toward Hermione.  “They look so in love, don’t they?”  Hermione nodded, but kept her head against his chest as he continued, “That’s what I want for us.”  He squeezed her against him clearly emphasizing his point.  Hermione drew back and looked up at Ron whose blue eyes gazed with passion into her eyes.

 

*** 

 

Ron wanted her to trust him, to understand what he was about to do. 

 

He kissed her softly on the lips and then took a step back, releasing her hands as he turned and walked over to the music and turned it down.

 

Everyone in the room let out a loud moan and looked for the cause in the disruption.  Ron smiled and waved to everyone to calm down and noticed Hermione’s panicked expression.

 

“Everyone!  I’m sorry for the break in the music, but I have something I want to tell all of you.  First of all, I’d like to wish my big brother a very happy birthday.”  Everyone applauded as Bill nodded to the group, still holding Fleur’s hand as he did.

 

“And I’d just like to tell my Mum, that I expect this kind of party come March.”

 

Everyone chuckled at Ron’s request, the mood of the room very bright and cheerful.  Mr. Weasley wrapped his arm around his wife, giving her a squeeze as she smiled at Ron’s request.

 

“Bill, I want you to know how much I admire and respect you.”  Ron did his best to keep it together as he continued, for he knew what was coming.  “I also admire the wonderful relationship you have with your lovely wife, my favorite sister-in-law.”

 

“Your ONLY zizter-in-law.”  Fleur corrected, sending another round of laughter throughout the room.

 

“True”  His heart thudded loudly and he felt a trickle of sweat build up on his brow as he glanced back at Hermione pleadingly.  “It is because of this that I need to bring all of you in on an important secret.”  Unknowingly, his eyes darted to Harry, Bill and Draco, each of whom responded with a deep exhale, a nod or a clearing of the throat.  They appeared almost as nervous as he.  In any other situation, he might have laughed at the true brotherhood that connected all of them.

 

He pivoted toward Hermione who stood frozen in panic, subtly shaking her head in a last ditch effort to dissuade him.  He gulped ridiculously hard and stuttered slightly.  

 

“H-Hermione, why don’t you take off your robes and relax with the rest of us.”

 

*** 

 

Her heart was thudding so loudly, she wasn’t sure she could hear anything else.  He couldn’t be seriously doing this.  Not now.  She wasn’t ready.  Would she ever be ready?  Just then she felt the baby kick again and instinctively glanced and reached down, cradling her abdomen.  When she looked back up, she noted Ron’s eyes, also staring at her stomach, but it wasn’t fear so much as true wonderment on his face, a twinkle in his eye when he met her gaze.  Like a welcome breeze through a suddenly open sash, the realization hit her. It was time to face the family.  Never taking her eyes off of Ron and drawing on his unmistakable adoration, she slowly unclasped her robes.

 

Ron drew in a weak breath and appeared to force himself away from her.  “Mum.  Dad.  I love you more than anything and I hate the idea of disappointing you, but I need to make something clear.”  His eyes flew back to Hermione as if his words would not be enough to convince her.  “I am desperately in love with Hermione.  I have been for several years now.  In fact, I think I somehow knew that we were destined for each other that very first time we met on the train to Hogwarts.”  Hermione felt her eyes sting and knew the water behind them was about to gush forth.  Her robes now draped over her arms still concealed her stomach, but she finally felt prepared.  Ron’s expression, his tense, but reliable posture and loving words took all the hesitance out of her limbs and she felt the robes slipping slowly to her hip level.

 

Ron blinked rapidly and Hermione sensed that his were also stinging with emotion.  Drawing his shoulders back, he inhaled deeply and faced his parents.  “She means everything to me and I cannot and will not allow anyone to speak poorly of her or to treat her unfairly, even my own parents.”

 

Molly frowned, stepping away from Arthur clearly puzzled.  Hermione slowly draped her robes on the nearby chair-back, her jumper hugging the now noticeable bulge across her middle.  Several sets of eyes gaped at her changing shape and the ladies in the room, in particular, lit up in response as they seemed to sense what was about to come.

 

“Hermione and I are going to have a baby.”  The expected gasps went up around the room, but Ron didn’t wait for them to settle before he continued.  “Mum, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you had hoped for and yes, I know we are both young and believe me, we’ve both been through a lot since we found out about this, but I will NOT hear anything negative from any of you about it.”  His eyes met Draco briefly.  “I love her and I love this baby, and if anyone in this room has any intention of making her feel bad in anyway about this, then I’d rather just take her and go.  We’ll leave and do this on our own.  Now, I hope that my family will be there for us, but she is my first priority.”  

 

Ron took three firm strides toward her, his attention now fully focused on Hermione even as he spoke to the room.  “She is my world.  I wouldn’t be who I am today without her and…” he gripped her face in both hands “…I can’t imagine living my life without you in it.  I want to spend every day making you feel special, for you are the most cherished thing in my life.”  He dropped down on a knee in front of her, kissing her budding tummy and wrapping his arms around her hips as he pressed his ear against her bump.  “Hermione, I love you so much.”  His voice broke with emotion as she slipped her hands into his hair, several sets of tears sliding down her cheeks.

 

The room had the deafening silence of an eye in the center of a hurricane.  The first of the storm had passed and now there was blissful peace.  Hermione could only hear her heart beating as she looked down at the man holding her.  The rest of the room blurred in comparison to the glow coming off his body.  The emotions were swallowing her whole, a deep intense love for him radiating down to her very toes.  He turned his head up to her, tears running down his cheeks.  “Please Hermione, please marry me.  Be my wife…” He sniffed.  “…my one and only.”  His voice broke.

 

That last phrase made Hermione sob and she lost all composure.  Without considering the rest of the room, Hermione slipped down on her knees before him and took his face in her hands.  She kissed him tenderly on the lips and then sniffed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, weeping openly.

 

“I love you, too, Ron.” She cried into his neck, holding him tightly.  “I love you so much!”  He stroked her hair, cradling her head tightly against him as if needing the closeness to confirm her words.  She didn’t want to move.  The combination of intense relief at sharing the news and the need for his closeness left her paralyzed and weepy against his neck.  

 

However, she knew there was a question to be answered and he was more deserving of a reply than any man on this planet.  After everything they had suffered, after months of turmoil and doubt and knowing how much her rejection had hurt him, she couldn’t stand waiting one more second.  Pulling back, she looked into his deep blue eyes, awash in tears and started wiping them from his cheeks.  A smile broke out across her face as she nodded her head.  

 

“Yes, oh, yes Ron. I’ll marry you.”

 

A roar broke out in the house that literally shook it to its foundation.  There was applause, laughter, screams and even a fair amount of tears from the women who were so stirred by Ron’s speech.  Mrs. Weasley was crying softly into her husband’s chest, but Arthur was grinning ear-to-ear.  Ron wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and then lifted Hermione to her feet.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black velvet box and opened it for Hermione who broke out in a fresh round of tears when she saw the beautiful diamond and sapphire ring nestled in the slot.  Ron pulled it out and slipped it onto her finger just before Ginny launched herself at them, wrapping her arms around both of them.  A second later, Harry clapped Ron on the back and the rest of the family pushed in to offer their own congratulations.

 

*** 

 

Ron waited until his siblings and friends had made the rounds, even hugging Draco, and then he firmly took his fiancée’s hand and walked toward Arthur and Molly who hadn’t moved from their spot across the room.  Molly clutched a hanky, her eyes still red.  Arthur had a sort of vacant, but pleased look on his face which Ron took as encouraging.  Still, he braced for their reaction, hoping it would be a good one and dreading what he would have to do if it wasn’t.  Hermione looked at Molly briefly, but then glanced down, embarrassment on her face as if reading what Mrs. Weasley was surely thinking of her.

 

Arthur was the first to react, reaching out a hand and placing it on Ron’s shoulder.  He quickly pulled him in for a huge hug and then pulled back and kissed Hermione on the cheek.

 

“Welcome to the family, Hermione and congratulations.”  He smiled and Ron felt the smallest sense of relief, but he looked back to his mother, still waiting for her response.

 

She blew her nose, finally waving the hankly absently.  “Ronald Bilius Weasley.  What am I going to do with you?”  Her expression started stern, but quickly softened.  “I guess we have a wedding to plan and soon!”  She reached over and placed her arms around Hermione.  “I’m so happy for you, dear.  I’ll finally have a grandchild to spoil.”  The tension that Hermione had been holding within her for months seemed to erupt and she wept openly as Molly continued to hold her.

 

Ron felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders as he watched his mother hold his soon-to-be wife.  Just when he thought he was off the hook he felt a familiar hand reach up and grab his ear, yanking him toward the kitchen.  Molly knew exactly how to handle her young men and Ron flinched from the firm grip, knowing he was in for it.  That was alright, though.  He could deal with any stern words from his mother as long as Hermione was left in the clear.  As she led him out of the room, he couldn’t help but notice Hermione’s worried expression, but Arthur turned and whispered something in her ear.  

 

*** 

 

“Don’t worry, dear.  He’ll live through it.”  Arthur smiled, kissing her again on the cheek.

 

Penelope, Alicia, Angelina and Fleur launched into a discussion of wedding and baby showers, drawing her attention briefly for a few minutes.  Still, Hermione kept glancing at the kitchen door and trying to listen for any raised voices.  About five minutes later, Ron emerged from the kitchen, quite red in the face, rubbing his ear but smiling as his mother following him out with a fresh tray of drinks.  Everyone floated back out to the center of the room, the music playing again, even Harry and Ginny who were now amongst the rest of the group, still clung to each other as George now decided that Harry needed a good ribbing.

 

Ron kissed his mother on the cheek and hugged her affectionately before setting his sights on Hermione.  She watched him approach, a wide smile filling his eyes with extreme happiness.  She squeaked when he scooped her up off of her feet and twirled her around, everyone moving aside to give them room as he kissed her firmly.  Setting her down gently, she inched him toward her with her finger.  “So, what did your mum say?”

 

Ron just smiled and shook his head.

 

“What?  Aren’t you going to tell me?”

 

“I’ll tell you later, but don’t worry.  She’s thrilled.”

 

A short while later, everyone sat down so that Bill could open his gifts.  Soon, Harry and Ginny disappeared out into the garden and George, Alicia, Percy and Penelope all took their leave.  Someone may have noticed Fred pulling Angelina up the stairs a bit earlier, but they seemed to have gone now.  Draco and Gabrielle pulled two chairs along the front window and had been talking non-stop for hours it seemed.  

 

Fleur pulled Hermione aside, her eyes glancing surreptitiously at her little sister and the much older man who seemed very intent on garnering her attention.  “Zo, how vell do you know Monsieur Malfoy?”

 

“Quite well, actually.  Did Bill tell you what he did at the cottage, for me and toward his father?”

 

“Yes, he did and alzough it waz very honorable for him to support Arry, I am still uncomfortable with zee age difference between zem.”

 

Hermione glanced over again and noted how Draco was making no attempt to get closer, his body language keeping him at a gentlemanly distance from the younger lady sitting across from him although his eyes sparkled with delight at having found someone to talk to.  Likewise, Gabrielle seemed truly engrossed in the conversation, her hands gesturing with abandon as she explained something of a humorous nature.  Hermione saw nothing but pure enjoyment on their faces, not a trace of anything romantic in their natures.

 

“I think he is very aware of their age difference, but I don’t think he’ll try to take advantage of her in any way.”

 

“Perhaps.  I cannot help being protective of my zister.”

 

“I don’t blame you but they are only talking.”  Hermione pointed out.  “No harm in that, right?”  Fleur nodded in agreement.

 

Charlie and his girlfriend exited via Floo a few moments later, leaving Molly, Fleur and Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, discussing wedding plans while Ron and Bill entered into a game of chess with Arthur taking on the winner.

 

Molly, upon finding out that Hermione had not yet told her parents about the baby and, obviously, about her accepting Ron’s proposal, insisted that they invite the Grangers over on Sunday.  She wrote out a quick invitation and gave it to Pig who took off with great eagerness.  The relaxation Hermione had been feeling ever since Molly’s acceptance evaporated in that instance.  Visions of a pale-looking mother and infuriated father gnawed at her stomach just as a little twitter of movement reminded her of the tiny life at the heart of the matter.

 

As the girls continued to chat on topics of veils, flowers and other topics that melted in a haze of voices, Hermione rested her chin on her palm and pictured Ron smiling and cradling a tiny bundle, wrapped in a blue blanket, or perhaps it would be pink, a coating of red hair adorning its tiny head.  They must have noticed her smile because the room became quiet and she looked up to see Alicia grinning at her.

 

“You are absolutely glowing, Hermione!”

 

Hermione looked around the room to find all the women stuck with dumb grins on their faces.  Suddenly, they all looked up and she heard a familiar voice behind her.

 

“I think it’s time I get my fiancée home.  She’s had a busy day.”  She felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder and smiled even more at the mention of the word fiancée.  It had a truly nice ring to it.  She subtly shook her head, wondering why on earth she had turned him down before.  The overpowering joy that had a grip on her tonight could have been present in all those torturous moments before if she had just said yes the first time.

 

Reaching for his hand, she twisted to look up at him, searching again for that truth, that inescapable destiny that had emanated from his eyes before.  If this had all been some wonderful dream, she would refuse to wake up.  Sleeping forever with this reality would outshine the outcome of any wakefulness she could imagine.

 

“What?” he asked, smiling at her as she stared at him intently.

 

Molly interrupted, breaking the moment, but not Hermione’s resolve to apologize to Ron at their first moment alone.  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but I assume you two are living together?”  Her eyebrows rose in question, but her face appeared to already know the answer.

 

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, but Ron answered.  “Yes, Mum and obviously sleeping together so don’t start.”

 

Molly tried to flash a look of innocent curiosity, but kept going as if determined to drive home her point.  “I didn’t say anything, however, you know my viewpoint.  I don’t feel like I need to rehash it again in Hermione’s presence.”  She twisted her fingers against her lips as if locking them and then tossing away the key.

 

“Mum…what am I going to do with you?” he mimicked his mother’s earlier comment and Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle as he slid a hand under her arm and coaxed her up.  “Great party, Mum.  You outdid yourself as usual.”  Ron walked around, kissing his mum on the cheek and then leaning down to offer one to Fleur as well.

 

Hermione said her goodbyes to the ladies and walked into the parlor.  Draco appeared ready to leave as well, standing with one arm behind his back and the other outstretched and holding Gabrielle’s up to his lips.  She couldn’t help but listen as the two made their farewells.

 

“Eet waz lovely to meet you, Draco.  You truly ‘av a gift for conversation.”

 

“As do you.  Perhaps I could write to you while you are away at school?”

 

“Zat would be very nice.”

 

Draco bowed, stepping back and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same scene a much younger Lucius might have had with a then youthful Narcissa.  Despite Lucius’s unseemly end, he had clearly taught his son some manners that simply radiated a sense of propriety and etiquette.  It was romantic in a way and although she smiled at the scene before her, it also struck her how she would never remotely find this type of behavior a part of her life’s picture.  Ron’s personality, now sturdy and confident - and sometimes jealous and infuriating – suited her to a tee.

 

Draco walked over just as Ron entered the room and they met at the Floo.

 

“Thank you for inviting me tonight.”  Draco offered as Ron approached.

 

“Thank you for coming.”  Ron replied as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, gesturing for Hermione to go first.  She stepped out into her own living room moments later, dusting off the soot, but waiting anxiously for her new fiancé to arrive.

 

Ron barely cleared the hearth before his arms were around her, his lips searching out hers in celebration of their new status.  He lifted her gently, her feet swinging inches off the ground as he walked toward the hallway.  When her toes finally touched the carpet, she pushed back tenderly on his chest.  “Ron, I need to tell you something.”

 

“I need to tell you something.”  He smiled vibrantly.  “I am officially the happiest wizard on the face of the earth and you are the most beautiful, sensational, brilliant, sexy witch I have ever known!”  He kissed her again and again, still nudging her toward their bedroom.  Hermione couldn’t help but smile and yet, she still knew what had to be said.

 

“I can’t believe I’m this lucky.”  He grinned, kissing her again as they reached the bedroom door.  Without warning, she found herself in his arms, his lips capturing hers with fervor before feeling the softness of the duvet on her back and an amorous looking man crawling slowly on top of her.

 

“Ron, please, I need to tell you something before we go any further.”  She didn’t mean to sound ultra-serious, only to get his attention, but she must have gone a bit too far for he froze, his expression changing to panic as if she were about to withdraw her earlier acceptance.

 

“What is it?”

 

Pulling herself out from underneath him, she brushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears and sitting beside him on the bed.  He kept studying her, his eyes darting from one of hers to the other and she looked down, speaking quickly, hoping to alleviate his fears.

 

“I need to apologize to you, Ronald.”

 

“Apologize, for what?” he asked, his head bobbing to get her to meet his eyes.

 

“For so many things, it’s ridiculous, but I’d like to start off with the fact that I’ve screamed at you when you didn’t deserve it.  I marched out on you and put myself and the baby in danger.  I didn’t recognize Draco’s feelings for me and mistook his friendship for just that.  I know that I hurt you and I’m so very sorry.”

 

“It’s alright, Hermione, it’s over…”

 

“Wait.  I need to say this.”  Ron nodded.  Hermione kept her eyes on the duvet, trying to find the words she needed and finally swallowed and looked him squarely in the eye, returning the same gesture he had bestowed upon her earlier that night.  “I have loved you for years and I thank Neville every day for loosing his toad that day on the train.”  Hermione's emotions were about to get the best of her and she tried to keep talking as quickly as possible for she felt the tears coming on.  “I can’t believe I turned you down…three times!  I should have said yes a thousand times over and never waited. I was so inconsiderate and stubborn and here you were just loving me and I couldn’t see it!”

 

“Shh, it’s alright.  Please don’t cry.  This is such a happy day, I can’t bare to see you cry, not now.  It’s forgotten.  Truly.”

 

“But…how can you forget all that.  I’ve acted horribly.  I don’t even recognize the girl I was back then.”

 

“Oh, I recognized her.  It was the hormonally unstable, wracked with morning sickness, wallowing in guilt Hermione Granger.  You should read Healer Toby Westbrook’s books on pregnancy.  He explains it all.”

 

She sniffed.  “Really?  Is he good?  I do need to read more.  I’ve been quite lax in that department.”

 

Ron smiled, stroking her hair before allowing his hand to caress her cheek.  “My beautiful, encyclopedic darling.  I promise to get you a whole load of books on the subject.”

 

Seeing him this happy washed away all the bad feelings and she tipped her head toward his.  He kissed her forehead before placing his own against hers again.  “It’s going to be alright.  I promise.  Trust me.”  He kissed her nose and quickly conjured a hanky.

 

After blowing her nose in such a way that only a man who truly loved her would have actually stayed to witness, she leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth and staring at the gorgeous ring that now adorned her left hand.  He reached out and trailed a finger against hers, also admiring the diamond that resided there.  The only sounds were those of their breathing, nearly synchronized as they leaned against each other.

 

“You should get some rest.  I’ll find your pajamas.”  Before he could retreat, she gripped his shirt and held him firmly in place.  “I’m not tired.  I just want to be with you.”

 

“Oh, believe me, I want to be with you, too, but we have to face your parents tomorrow.”

 

“Well, I’d rather you faced my parents with a grin on your face so, why don’t you get undressed and come to bed.”

 

“You little minx.”  Ron smiled, tapping her on the nose.

 

*** 

 

Sunday was considerably more stressful for Ron, just as expected, with Hermione’s parents showing up around noon.  He was forced to endure some rather disconcerting looks from Hermione’s father as she told them about the baby.  Mrs. Granger seemed quite concerned, but then Hermione showed them the ring on her hand and explained what Ron had done the day before and her mother broke out in tears and hugged her for quite a while.  

 

Ron noticed how Mr. Granger was glaring at him most of the afternoon.  Hermione’s father was quiet and continued to give Ron some looks that were uncomfortable to say the least.  Ron considered buying his mum a bouquet of flowers for the incredibly supportive job she did at trying to convince the Grangers of the positive aspects of their impending union.  After a nice lunch, the four parents sat down in the kitchen to talk and Hermione and Ron headed out into the living room.  They had been sitting on the sofa for some time, discussing wedding ideas and baby names, not aware that Mr. Granger was standing in the doorway watching them.

 

He stood there, silently, observing his daughter and the young man, whom he didn’t know very well, as they relaxed with one another.  Hermione had snuggled up against Ron, whose left hand rested on her tummy, his thumb rubbing little patterns as his other hand played absent-mindedly with her hair.  Ron kissed her often, rubbed her arm occasionally and when Hermione shivered, he pulled his wand out and soon a quilt was floating across the room, which he pulled over Hermione’s lap.

 

He must have thought he’d seen enough, for Mr. Granger cleared his throat and entered the room.  Ron tried to sit up straighter, but Hermione was leaning against him so, he decided that firm eye contact would have to do.

 

“Hermione, sweetheart.”  Ron noted how she looked worried as her father hadn’t said barely two words to her the entire day.  “You know that your mother and I have always wanted what was best for you.  We want you to be happy and healthy.”

 

“Yes, father, I know that.”

 

“Well, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t extremely disappointed with this baby news.  I feel that you are too young to be burdened with a child.  You’re throwing away your life, your education, your youth…”

 

“Mr. Granger…”  Ron was ready to jump to their defense, but Mr. Granger cut him off.

 

“Ronald, please let me finish.”  He cleared his throat again and took a seat in the chair just opposite the two of them.  “You _are_ both young.  Frankly, your Mother and I are shocked that you didn’t come to us right away.  But, as it appears you’ve waited and now have no choice but to carry this child to term, your Mother and I have agreed that you can come and live with us and we’ll help to take care of the baby.”

 

“But, Daddy.  I don’t want to move back home.  I want to be with Ron.  Weren’t you listening?  We’re going to be married.”  She had moved even closer to Ron and his hand slipped behind her back.  Mr. Granger was shaking his head, but she continued before he could speak again.  “I am a grown woman and I can make my own decisions!  He asked me and I said yes.  We will be husband and wife.”

 

The previously calm figure reacted to Hermione’s refusal with intensity.  A fury seemed to build behind Mr. Granger’s expression, evident by the increasing flush and tenseness of his jaw.  But, rather than raise his voice, he spoke with deep resonance and regret.  “Hermione, if you do this, you do so without our blessing.  Do you understand?  You are too young.  And, you…” he pointed his finger at Ron’s chest “you couldn’t keep it zipped, could you.  J-just stay away from her.”

 

Mr. Granger turned and marched out of the room.

 

“Mr. Granger…” Ron called, but he had already collected his wife and was storming past his daughter once more as they left.  Her Mother tried to speak to Hermione, but was ushered out by a very livid Mr. Granger, Molly and Arthur trailing behind.

 

They all stood in silence, staring at the front door for a moment until Hermione ran to the door, tears lining her face as her parents pulled away.  “Daddy!”

 

 


	32. Chapter 32 - Pieces of the Puzzle

  
Author's notes:

I apologize that it has been so long since I posted.  Life has been very busy with daughters starting school and me with a new job.  Thanks to all of you who have reviewed.  I know many of you are waiting breathlessly for this to end.  So, I guess I'd better get off my tush and get busy!!  One more to go after this.  I'm biting my nail hoping you'll like it!!  

 

* * *

 

December started to fly by quicker than anyone could have imagined.  Ginny headed back to school as promised.  Hermione, when not at work, or researching the curse, was talking with Ron and Mrs. Weasley about a wedding, despite the terrible break she had endured with her father.  Everyone was making frequent shopping trips to get in all their Christmas shopping early.  Harry still spent two days a week teaching defense classes, one at Hogwarts and one in London, each time rotating to different sites.  Auror training continued as well for both Ron and Harry, who often came home sweaty and tired, but happy they were learning so much.  Draco had made arrangements to visit Gabrielle in France a couple of days after Christmas and he was generally in a good mood, stopping in at Hermione’s flat or occasionally at the Burrow.

 

Twice in early December, Death Eater attacks had occurred in two muggle villages and one attempt was made to kidnap another Order member, but he luckily got away.

 

Hermione sat in her flat, reading the newspaper when she came across an article from the British Museum that spoke of a famous anthropologist and specialist on Egyptian religion and culture that was visiting in London.  Deciding he might be a good person to consult, she got on the internet and found a contact number for him.  Hermione’s parents insisted that she have a PC with email so that they could easily contact her without having to use an owl.  Ron was still adjusting to the idea of anything electrical in Hermione’s flat, but he had started playing Solitaire on the computer and learning how to open and close windows.

 

On December 20th, she received a reply from Professor Hasan who agreed to see her as he was most intrigued by her questions regarding this ancient curse.  So, after discussing this with Ron, she made arrangements to meet with the Professor the next day.  Ron  couldn’t get away from work, neither could Bill or the twins, but Harry and Draco agreed to accompany Hermione, making Ron feel much better about her traveling into London.

 

They took Muggle transportation, Draco looking warily at the cab driver as they arrived at the British Museum.  He hopped out of the car and opened the door for Hermione as Harry paid the fare and soon they all were walking through the halls of the gallery.  After signing in at security, they were led back to an office and Professor Hasan entered, offering a handshake to them as he gesture to several chairs.  Draco, seemingly uncomfortable, opted to stand a few feet behind, still examining the art on the walls, but Harry pulled the chair back for Hermione to sit.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor.  These are my friends, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy.”  Harry offered his hand, but Draco merely nodded from across the room.

 

“So, now, Ms. Granger.  You have me very curious.  Please tell me why you are interested in this very old and somewhat unbelievable curse.”

 

Harry sat down next to her, but did not interrupt.

 

“Well, Professor, my future brother-in-law does a lot of work in Egypt and he came across this story from an elder in a local village.”

 

“Really?  Where does he work?  Perhaps I’ve met him.”

 

“Oh, um…well, he is sort of like you, exploring tombs and studying ancient artifacts.  His name is Bill Weasley.”

 

“Weasley?  I’m not sure that we’ve met.”

 

“Well, he doesn’t run in the regular circles that much.”

 

“I understand.  So, why are you interested in this?”

 

“Well, this may sound somewhat unbelievable, but we actually think that some members of Bill’s family might be descendents of those who were supposedly cursed with this some 900 or more years ago.”

 

“You’re correct, that’s quite unbelievable.  You do realize, that many of these stories are just myth, they are not based in fact, but instead upon the culture and religion of the time and the perception that the people had of their leaders.  It was their way of explaining odd things that happened to important people in their lives.”

 

“Yes.  We realize that.  However, we’d still like to learn as much as we can about this and I’ve come across a sort of poem that we decrypted and we’re trying to make some sense of it and how it relates to this curse.”

 

Hermione pulled out her papers and laid the poem out for the Professor to study.  Harry sat back and observed as the Professor pulled on his glasses and leaned forward to read the document.  Draco had taken a few steps closer to the group.

 

“We know about the first few lines where it speaks of a girl who lost her love and she mourned for seven years.  We’re not sure about the Crystal tears, but we do see a connection among seven families in seven different generations having seven sisters.”

 

“Yes, well, if I remember correctly, that refers to a freak ice storm that occurred around the time of this story.  It is fairly unheard of for that region of the continent to ever see ice or snow, so when the people saw the frozen rain and icicles forming, they thought that the gods were crying crystal tears.”  He continued.  “Ah, yes and this part.  For Faith did not jar, an enemy did turn.  Interesting.  Yes, yes.  There was something about one of the evil priest’s confidants acting as a spy, but I don’t know much else.”

 

“That makes sense.  What about these lines here?  Paternity lost to the sentry that served,

His pledge unfulfilled, not one pardon deserved.”

 

“Yes, well, as I recall there were two body guards who failed to protect the love of this girl.  I believe the story goes that due to their failure, one lost his paternity or his parentage.  His father’s wealth and belongings were denied him and he lived in poverty for the rest of his life.  The other’s paternity refers to a child.  I believe the other guard was to be married to a woman who was carrying his child, but after his failure to prevent the death of this prince, he was shamed and the woman’s parents refused to allow the marriage and the child was born in shame, without his father’s name.  I believe that both of the guards in this myth were in love with the same woman and it was because they were both trying to woo her that they failed in their duty to stop the murder of the prince.”

 

“That’s very interesting.  So, if that is the case, why isn’t the curse placed on them and not on the prince himself.”

 

“Well, what this story fails to relate, is the fact that the princess was supposedly possessed by some evil demon at an earlier point in her life.  The priests who worshipped this god of the underworld were sworn to bring her back to the demon’s possession.  So, when she fell in love with this prince, he was very powerful and threatened the efforts of the priests to bring her back into the demon’s realm.  They cursed him, in essence, taking away his power and then stabbed him to death, as his body guards were in the next room and then tossed his body into a dusty, sand-filled grave.”

 

“Oh, my.  That’s horrible.”  Draco walked over to the window, looking out at the street below as the conversation continued.

 

“Yes, well, it’s just a story. There’s no real fact to back it up, except for the notations of the ice storm and the many stories of how the princess mourned, wept and prayed for years afterward, never losing her beauty, but never taking a husband.  The rumor began that the stone markers on his grave grew worn from her salty tears falling upon them.  This was the days where many people still prayed to multiple deities and so, it was said that one of them saw this display and swore that the curse would be lifted when certain conditions were met.”

 

Hermione shuffled some more papers around and pulled out the drawing of the symbol they had found.  “One more thing, Professor.  Do you know anything about this?”

 

He took one glance at the drawing and looked at Hermione before going on.  “This is a symbol that represents an ancient society whose members were known as the ‘Protectors of the Light.’  Men who attained this honor were tattooed with this symbol and were sworn to defend the world from the dark forces of ‘magic’” He raised his hands, making quote marks in the air around the word ‘magic’.  “It was said they had a great strength or supernatural abilities that allowed them to shield those whom the Sun god marked as ‘Defenders of the Light.’”

 

The door to the office opened and a gray-haired lady wearing a crisp navy suit appeared.  “I’m sorry, Professor, but you are needed in the observatory.”

 

“Yes, of course.  I’m sorry, Ms. Granger, but that’s all the time I can spare for you at the present.  I’d love to speak to you more in the future about all of this.  These old myths and tales of mystical happenings fascinate me to no end.  I do so enjoy discussing the reasons behind these fabulous tales.  I hope I was helpful with your research paper.”

 

He stood and offered his hand that Hermione took gratefully.  “Can you see yourselves out?”

 

Harry stood, offering his hand as well.  “Yes, sir.  Thank you.”

 

The Professor began to back away, his assistant beckoning him to hurry and Draco walked back over to join them.  “Oh, yes, Professor.  Thank you so much for seeing us.”

 

After the professor was out of ear shot, Harry turned to Hermione.  “Research paper?”

 

Hermione just raised her eyebrows in a ‘well, what did you expect’ reply.

 

Draco escorted Hermione back to her flat as Harry was due back at work and couldn’t stay, but he offered to stop by that night to discuss everything.  She was quiet the entire trip back, going over everything the professor had told her.  As soon as she arrived home, she sat down and started writing down notes.  Draco realized he was no longer needed and made to leave when Hermione must have realized her poor manners.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry Draco.  I’ve just been in really deep thought.”  She stood up and walked over to him.  “Thank you so much for going with me today.”  Draco noticed her hand go to her stomach again.

 

“Baby kicking?”

 

“Yes.  That’s a good sign, right?”  She smiled at him, still holding her tummy.

 

“You know, I never told you how happy I am for you.”  She was still smiling when he unexpectedly placed a small, friendly kiss on her lips.  Her smile dropped as she drew back from him, but Draco held still.  “I still think you are the loveliest creature I’ve ever met.”  He ran a hand down her arm.

 

She turned her head to question him.  “Really?  I thought you had eyes for a certain blonde, French girl?”  She turned back to the table, walking away from him.

 

“Oh, yes.  Gabrielle is very nice.  Very young, but very nice.  I look forward to seeing her again next week.”

 

“Good.  I think you two would make a nice couple.”  Draco frowned.  “When you’re a little older, of course.  Not that you can’t begin a lovely friendship?”

 

She turned back around, standing next to her chair.  Draco was still drawn to her and his first impulse was to walk back toward her.  He loved being close to her, feeling her warmth, her presence near him.  It emboldened him, gave him courage to be the kind of man he really wanted to be.  However, he also knew that she was no longer available to him and he refrained from approaching her.  Gabrielle was very nice and he had enjoyed her company and found her quite attractive.  So, he wasn’t lying, but he hadn’t completely lost his feelings for Hermione either.

 

“Perhaps.  I do like her, but… I think I will always feel close to you.”

 

“Goodbye, Draco and thanks again.”

 

He understood and took his queue, smiling again.  “Goodbye, Hermione.”

 

*** 

 

The next morning started with a jolt.  Word spread quickly of another attack and the kidnapping of an Order member.  A meeting was called quickly and everyone was told to convene at Grimmauld at ten o’clock sharp.  At the same time, Draco had received word that his father’s assets were being turned over to the ministry and that his mother was being forced to leave their home in the country.  Draco rushed to Gringotts, wishing to secure his own funds, but was told that all vaults in the Malfoy name had been frozen.  He argued that his money had nothing to do with his father’s, but it fell on deaf ears.  Draco Apparated back to his office, unsure of what to do next, when Harry arrived with a soft pop at his door.

 

“Draco.  Look, there was another attack this morning and an Order member was taken.  A witness claimed that you were present at this attack and so an order was given to freeze all Malfoy assets and issue a warrant for your arrest.”

 

“What?  I’ve been at work all morning until I got this note from my mother.  I only went to Gringott’s.  I wasn’t involved in any attack.  I swear!”  

 

Harry watched him, questioningly for a moment.  He knew his job required that he arrest him and bring him in to the Ministry, but something told him that this was the wrong thing to do.  “Draco.  You have to get out of here.  A group of Aurors will be coming for you any minute.  Do you remember the address of the Order?” 

 

“Um…yes, but I don’t think I should go there.”

 

“Well, that’s where we’re heading,” Harry explained as he grabbed Draco’s arm. Draco looked shocked, still trying to figure out what Harry was doing, but then he heard voices approaching the door and realized he was out of time.  The door to his office was blasted off the hinges, sending dust and debris everywhere.  Draco heard a voice shouting “use any force necessary’ as he grabbed hold of Harry’s hand and they disappeared.

 

*** 

 

Draco found himself standing on a sidewalk between two older style brick homes.  A wrought iron gate and fence outlined the lawn as Harry turned to him again.  “Do you remember the address?”

 

“Yes, 12 Grimmauld Place.”  As he said it, a door appeared and then a whole house squeezed in between the two brick dwellings he had just been admiring.  The door had a large, somewhat ugly looking door knocker, but he didn’t have time to really examine it as Harry ushered him forward.

 

Within a few seconds he was standing in the hallway with five sets of wands pointed at him.  He froze in fear, but heard Harry’s voice break through.  “No.  Don’t.  I brought him here.  It’s alright.”

 

“Harry, he’s involved with them.  Are you crazy?  You’ve just divulged the location of the Order to a Death Eater!”  

 

“I’m NOT a Death Eater.  I was not involved in anything!”

 

A couple of wands slowly lowered, but Draco still felt in great danger.  A second later, Hermione and Ron came walking in.  Ron’s voice seemed to command attention.

 

“Lower your wands!  He’s with us.  He’s been cleared.”  Hermione stood back, looking concerned as Ron took position between Draco and three wands, eager to curse the last of the Malfoy family.  Ron continued, “He knew this address months ago when he used the Floo to warn us about Hermione’s kidnapping.  He’s known this address all along and, even if he could, he hasn’t even tried to divulge that information to anyone!”

 

“Welcome to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,” Harry offered with a slight smile and gestured for Draco to follow him.

 

The meeting came to order and Draco took a hesitant seat on Harry’s left, Ron on Harry’s right as they went over the happenings of that morning.

 

“We fear that our location may be in jeopardy.”  Mad-Eye offered.

 

“The house is under a Fidelius spell.  Only the secret keeper can divulge the location.”

 

Remus jumped in.  “Remember that attack two months ago?  It appears they were trying to obtain information on how to break the Fidelius using the ‘copius caligraph’ spell, by altering it to force a person to write the address.  Currently, only the secret keeper can write the location.  Anyone else even attempting to write it will suddenly loose their train of thought and feel incredible pain.  It feels and looks as if their hand is actually melting off of their body.  They were apparently trying to alter this spell to take away the pain and instead it sort of brain-washes them into believing that they are offering the address willingly to get past the spell’s effects on the brain.”

 

Bill cut in.  “We need to double and triple the wards around the house.  If they do find out, we need to give everyone time to get out of here.”

 

“The wards are in good shape.  I’ve looked them over myself.”  Harry quickly cut in.  “No one other than Voldemort himself would be able to break through these wards.  And if he does come himself, then I’ll be ready for him.”

 

“What are we going to do with Mr. Malfoy, here?  He’s wanted by the Aurors.  Something I can’t just overlook.”  Mad-Eye’s false eye bored into Draco’s silver ones.  Harry was about to come to Draco’s defense when the young blonde surprised him by standing up.

 

“I had nothing to do with today’s events.  I stand with my friends.” He gestured to Ron and Harry.  “If the Dark Lord has truly found out this location, then I want to stay here to offer my services to Harry.  I’m tired of living under my father’s shroud.  Just because of my name, it’s assumed that I’m one of them, but I’m not.  I want an end to this just as much as the rest of you and I’m willing to lay my life down for Harry if it means that he will put a stop to this insanity!”

 

Ron stood up on the other side of Harry.  “Draco has proven himself in my eyes.  I trust him and stand by him as well.  Harry, we will be with you when the time comes.  We won’t let you down.”

 

*** 

 

Ginny came home the following morning, eager to spend time with Harry over the Christmas holidays.  Unfortunately, she was told that Harry was at Grimmauld and that she could not go over there.  It wasn’t safe and she was restricted to the Burrow.

 

Finally, after some convincing, her parents agreed to let her go over to Hermione’s flat where, similarly, Ron had banished his fiancée, insisting that she and the baby remain safely away from headquarters.  She and Ron had launched into quite a row about this very fact just an hour earlier.

 

  _“What do you mean, I can’t come?  I have just as much right to be there as you!”  She  marched about the kitchen, waving a spoon as_ _Ron_ _leaned on the countertop._

_“Hermione, listen to me.  Of course you have a right to be there, but it isn’t safe.  I don’t want you there.  Why can’t you just this once agree with me and stop being so damn stubborn!”_

_“I have been with Harry from the start and I have never let him down.  Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become incapable!  I have months worth of research into this curse and I need to be with the people who are helping Harry, not sitting here sipping tea!”_

_He took two giant strides forward and grabbed her arms.  “Well, I’m sorry, but I FORBID you to go!”  Ron’s expression immediately turned from rage to regret._

_“You do NOT give me orders, Ronald Weasley.  If this is how you think our marriage is going to work, then I think we’d better break off this engagement, because I will NOT live like this.”_

_Ron turned away from her, taking both hands and clasping them behind his head, effectively shutting her off and dropping his head in frustration._

_“Marriage is a partnership.  I will not be vowing to obey anyone, do you hear me!”_

_Her heart was pounding with anger and pain at having mentioned they break off this relationship.  It was the last thing she wanted and she prayed that he would fight to keep her; that he wouldn’t just give up on them._

_When he didn’t move after several seconds, she finally managed to swallow and watched him sit down at the kitchen table, his head hung in defeat.  It pained her very soul to see him like this and the rage that had consumed her was ebbing as the love washed back over her._

_He took in a long breath and when he let it out, it was stuttered and his shoulder’s shook._ _Now she felt gripped with fear and remorse, and both urged her forward as she approached him from behind.  “Oh,_ _Ron_ _, I’m sorry.  I just…I can’t…”_

_“Hermione, I can’t loose you again.”_

_His voice was soft and muffled._ _She stood stock still, evaluating what he had just said.  Loose her again?  What did he mean?_

_“It nearly killed me when I thought you had died last winter.  I carry that fear around inside of me all the time.  I felt what it was like to grieve for you.  My soul was literally ripped from my body, Hermione.”_ _She walked around to face him, but he kept looking down._ _“You are a part of me.  I can’t be a whole person without you and the thought of you being taken away from me is just too much.  I can’t live like that.  I wanted to die and it was the most horrible feeling and then when Harry told me you were alive, it was like…” he looked up, meeting her eyes, “the sun rising in the morning and filling my body with heat, my soul was warm and light and all the cold and the dark was pushed away.”_

_“Oh, Ron.  I didn’t know.”  She reached out and tenderly caressed his face as his hands slid up her hips and around her waist._ _“It’s alright.  I’ll stay here.”_

_He was still near tears, his face now nuzzled into her tummy._

_"Hermione, I don’t want you to obey me.  I don’t want to have that kind of marriage with you.”_

_“I know.  I know.  I’m sorry for saying that.  I know that you’ll make a wonderful husband.”  She straddled his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck._

_“So, you’ll still marry me?  I mean, our engagement is still on?”_

_“Of course it is.”  She smiled to offer her assurance.  “I never should have even suggested that.  I’m so sorry.  I love you.”_

_He sighed.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment, almost as if he was giving thanks to some silent prayer.  When he opened his eyes, he tilted up and placed a kiss on her forehead._

_“I have to go.  The meeting is starting soon.”_

_She scooted off his lap as he stood and he paused to smile at her again and then reached down and placed a kiss on her stomach.  “I’ll see both of you in about an hour, okay?”_ _She ran her hand through his hair as he kissed her swollen tummy and nodded to him as he stepped back, a relieved and happy expression gracing his face just before he Apparated._   

“Hermione?”  Ginny popped her head in the floo.

 

“Ginny?!”

 

“Yeah.  Can I come on through?”

 

“Sure!”

 

Ginny appeared a second later, brushing off her jeans.  Hermione reclined, resting on the sofa, several books open around her, the remains of breakfast and the morning post on the table.   “Welcome home, Gin!”  Then as she looked at her future sister-in-law more closely, she was shocked at the drawn look about her.  “Ginny, are you alright?  You look awful.”

 

“Thanks.” She replied with a note of sarcasm, but plopped down in the armchair.  “Mum and Dad won’t let me see Harry.”  She started looking at the various book titles on the table in front of her.

 

“Yeah, I know.  Ron won’t let me anywhere near headquarters, either.  He said it’s not safe, as if I don’t know how to defend myself.”

 

“Well, Hermione, you have to think of the baby now.”

 

“I know, I know.  It just infuriates me when he treats me like a poor, defenseless woman.  And, then at the same time, I love him so much when he acts all protective and…well, you know he was really shook up when I fell in the lake last year.”

 

“We all were.”

 

“I know.  Well, I didn’t realize that it affected him that much.  So, I agreed to stay here.”

 

“Don’t worry, Hermione.  He doesn’t think that you aren’t capable or anything.  He just loves you and wants you and the baby to be safe.”

 

She nodded and went back to her reading.  “So, what are you doing now?” Ginny asked.

 

“I’m still sorting through this curse and going over everything I learned in my meeting with Professor Hasan the other day.  I still think these number sequences mean something, but what?”

 

Ginny pulled the nearby arm chair a bit closer.  “Hermione.  I need to tell you something.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s these dreams I’ve been having.  They’re getting more and more vivid, more real each time and they’re really starting to scare me.  These are not just ordinary dreams.  In fact, they’re not even ordinary nightmares.”

 

“So, does that explain why you look like death warmed over?”

 

“I dread falling asleep.  These dreams are getting so intense.  I woke up screaming twice now.  Scared the bloody daylights out of my roommates.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

Ginny went on to explain everything that had happened in her dreams over the past two weeks.  The Harry in her dreams finally had a name.  He was called ‘Kemnebi’ and she kept seeing him covered in blood.  Her final dream had shown her the stab wounds across his chest, and she had awoken with a scream upon seeing this.  She also noted that she had a father in her dreams who kept indicating that he was a witness and would demand justice on her behalf.

 

“Ginny, if you are the seventh sister that is quoted in this curse, then I think that you have to be the one to demand justice. This princess, she mourned for seven years and was told that the curse would be lifted, but it also says “Denied now, cry forth hence, my soul demands justice, No pity, nor weakness, the kin must bear witness.”

 

“Okay.  So, I have to demand justice. But when?  From whom?  No pity on whom?”

 

“I don’t know Ginny.  I just don’t know.”

 

A soft pop announced that someone had just Apparated, and the girls whipped around to see Ron and Draco, both covered in sweat and breathing quite hard.  It seemed odd that in the middle of December, both men would show up as they appeared now.  Ron was wearing nothing but a sleeveless, form-fitted tank-like shirt, for which Hermione was eternally grateful as it showed off every ripple, every muscle in his now six foot two frame.  More surprisingly was Draco, who also stood in nothing but a white t-shirt, still thin, but showing much more definition than either of the two girls had ever seen before.

 

“What’s going on, Ron?”  Ginny stood up, but Hermione remained on the sofa.

 

“Hermione, you’ve got to see this.”  Ron sounded very excited as Draco and him moved forward and he gestured to the kitchen table.  “Gin, do you have your wand handy?”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“Good.  When I tell you to, I want you to throw your strongest ‘reducto’ at the kitchen table.”

 

“What?!”  Hermione was now on her way up.

 

“Trust me.”  He turned to Draco.  “Ready?”  Draco nodded and both men tipped their wands, not saying a word and a jet of gold light poured forth, enveloping the kitchen table.

 

“Now, Gin.”

 

Ginny flicked her wrist and stepped into a _Reducto_ with as much force as she could muster.  The jet of light shot forth from her wand, but just bounced off the gold aura around the table.

 

“Something strong.  Throw something stronger!”  Ron demanded.

 

Hermione pulled out her wand and called out a spell that none of them had even heard of.  This one hit the shield and bounced back, but both Ron and Draco grunted as the curse made contact with their shield.  They were both breathing harder, but it held.  Ron nodded and they released it, Draco wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

 

A small mark on the inside of his arm caught Hermione’s attention.

 

“Draco.  Let me see your arm.”  Hermione walked over and grabbed his forearm, turning it up, then she grabbed Ron’s arm with her other hand and turned his over as well, looking at identical markings.  She recognized the burn that Ron had received while in Egypt last spring, but the scar was unmistakable.  It matched the symbol, the one she had been studying.  “Draco.  How long have you had this mark on you?”

 

“Oh, I got that in the duel at the cottage when you were taken.  Right after my father went down, I think an errant curse just stung me and left a scar.”

 

“But, these are identical!  Oh my god.  Ginny, find that paper with the symbol on it.  Hurry!”

 

Ginny started rifling through the paperwork, finally pulling out the sheet and handing it to Hermione.  The two men stood, shoulder to shoulder, wondering what was going on as Hermione started to read.

 

“This is a symbol that represents an ancient society that were known as ‘Patronus of Lux lucis’ the ‘Protectors of the Light.’  Men who attained this honor were tattooed with this symbol and were sworn to defend the world from the dark forces.  It was said they had a great strength or supernatural abilities that allowed them to shield those whom the Sun god marked as ‘Defenders of the Light.’”

 

Hermione ran over to the table and started a maddening search for another paper.

 She looked up at Draco as she read.“One shall be of the mid-day Sun, bright, white and obvious.”  Then she turned to Ron.  “The second one of the dusk and dawn, of orange and purple, comforting and bringing new life.”  She reached down, placing a hand on her stomach.  “Together they must rely on the third, the black one with eyes of the cat, the beast marked from the storm, for he will save them all.  The two of day must protect the one of night as the heavens will open forth and return the evil to the dust of the earth.”

“What are you talking about?”  Draco asked, wondering why she was so upset.

 

“Don’t you see?  You are Harry’s protectors.  You are the body guards that were supposed to protect the prince, but you failed and he was killed.”  Both men look confused.  “What do you mean we were supposed to protect him?  When?”

 

“Hundreds of years ago.  I mean now.”  She shook her head.  “Don’t you see?  The curse is being replayed and you are his protectors.  There isn’t time to explain.  You need to find Harry.  Now!”

 

The two men, still not understanding everything, took Hermione’s advice, none-the-less, and Apparated at once back to Grimmauld.

 

“There has to be a clue here.  There has to be.  I can sense that something is about to happen, Ginny.  Harry is changing and so are Ron and Draco.”

 

“What do you mean, he’s changing?”

 

“Haven’t you noticed?”  Ginny still looked confused.  “Didn’t he tell you about his dueling with Kingsley or the incident back in the summer with the chandelier?”

 

“I heard about an accident while they were hanging that thing, but nothing spectacular.  And, what about the dueling?”

 

“Gin, he’s reading people’s minds!  He’s been seriously hurt, but just miraculously heals on the spot!  He’s changing and I’m sure it has to do with this curse.”  Ginny became concerned when Hermione started to look very flushed, her breathing becoming faster with every word.   “These numbers have to mean something!”

 

“Hermione.  Relax.  We’ll figure it out.  Ron will kill me if I let you get all worked up and go into premature labor or something.”

 

“Gin.  I’m only five months along.”

 

“Still.” Ginny casually looked through the papers on the table, pulling out the daily newspaper that was lying beneath.  “You still get the muggle newspaper?”

 

Hermione kept studying, but replied without looking up.  “Yeah.  I like to keep up on the muggle happenings and Ron likes the crossword puzzles and stuff.”

 

“Yeah, I like these ones where you have to find the letters with the numbers and then read the sentence at the end.  I haven’t done one of these in years!”  Hermione had pulled her attention away from the book and glanced at the puzzle that Ginny was referring to.  She really couldn’t help since Ginny was now moving things around and sitting next to her.

  

She snatched the paper from Ginny’s hand.  “Ginny.  Let me see that.”

 

“Touchy today, aren’t we?  We can do this together.”

 

“Ginny!  You are a genius!!”  Hermione threw her arms around her, pulling back with a huge smile on her face and immediately removing all the books from her lap.  She snatched up a couple of pieces of parchment from the table as she stood, Ginny still sitting in bewilderment.

 

“We have a puzzle to do!”

  


	33. Chapter 33 - A Curse is a Curse, Of Course, Of Course

  
Author's notes:

A huge THANK YOU to my beta Indie who has been so great in helping me finish this.  I also have to give a shout out to missgranger2 for her support and friendship.  And to ALL of you who have taken the time to write and review, I can't thank you enough.  You've kept me going.  I've been dreading putting out this last chapter.  It's been several years of my life in the making and I almost don't want it to end.  It's also been a great learning experience and I hope it's given all of you something fun, exciting and romantic to read.  So, now, let's end this, together!

* * *

 

 

After running the numbers from the chest rubbing in various patterns through the poem, Hermione had come across several possible statements, but the last one sent a chill through her body as Ginny and her stared at the scratchings in front of them.

 

_“_ XXIXLIIXLLXVXXXVXCIVXLIIIXCIIIXCICII”

 

_10,10,1,10,50,2,10,50,50,_

_…_ _Years years she years_

_20,9,51 9,50,60,5,70,_

_…_ _Tears for not for_

_21,40,2,40,50,15,20,15,10,104,43,10,52,9,101,100,2_

_A holds hath holds did through tears through years to destroy years…_

_29,52,40,65,35,94,43,93,91,102_

**_The jar holds his seven souls destroy his evil force_**   

Ginny’s mouth hung open, afraid to speak or even to breath.  The implications were huge.

 

“This can’t mean what I think it means, right?”

 

“I think it does.  We have to get to that chest.”

 

Ginny swallowed hard.  “Um…it’s on the third floor at headquarters.”

 

Hermione numbly nodded before grabbing her wand and heading for the fireplace.  “I’ll go through first and make sure the coast is clear and then you can come through.”

 

Ginny knew she wasn’t supposed to go, but this was too important.  They had to get to that chest and find if this was true.  So, she blew out a calming breath and followed behind Hermione who had stepped into the floo.

 

As soon as Hermione gave the signal, Ginny went through as well and both girls dashed up the stairs, heading for that third floor back bedroom.

 

 ***   

 

An Order meeting had just let out and a few people were still left behind, mingling in the kitchen, discussing the latest news.  Bill, Arthur, Draco and Remus had gone out to reinforce the wards again, while Ron was trying to convince Harry to help put up a Christmas tree that day.

 

The two of them were coming out of the kitchen into the hallway that led to the foyer.  “But Ron, why should I bother.  I can just go to the Burrow or come to your place.”

 

Ron winked.  “I think Ginny would like it.”  This caught Harry’s attention a bit and he started to reconsider.  “You think?”

 

Their attention was drawn up to the footsteps that came bounding into the third floor hallway above the banister.  “Hermione!  What are you doing here?  You promised…”

 

“Ron, not now.  Harry, we found it.”  She smiled excitedly, panting with excitement.

 

“Found what?  And we who?”  Harry just stood, hands on his waist, thinking that Hermione had come across some new and terribly exciting way to finish homework faster.

 

Just then, Ginny appeared holding a jar in each hand.  This got Harry’s full attention.

 

“Oh” was all he got out before Hermione continued on.  “We solved the puzzle.  These jars.  It says we have to destroy these jars to eliminate his soul!  I told you that the curse would cancel the horcrux spell.  Destroying these is as good as finding the other horcruxes and destroying them.”

 

Ron finally jumped in.  “Where did you find them?  Are you sure they’re safe?”

 

“They were in the chest all along!”  Her smile dropped and she grasped the railing in front of her, parchment clutched firmly in her hand.

 

It felt like the Hogwart’s Express was flying past the house.  It began to shake with a thunderous roar.  The men looked at each other, both trying to steady themselves against the shaking floor.  “Do earthquakes happen in London?”  Ron asked as the building continued to tremble.

 

“What’s going on?” came Ginny’s voice from above them and they looked up to see her standing by the railing on the third floor.  One of the jars jostled out of her hand, but Hermione caught it and tried to tuck it carefully in her cloak pocket.  

 

Ron panicked.  “Hermione! Get down here!”  Ron had just started to take a step when both men were thrown to the ground from the force of a huge explosion.  The wall directly in front of them collapsed and both girls screamed as the floor beneath them tilted.  Ron and Harry scrambled to their feet and started up the shifting steps, managing to reach the cracked, but still functional second floor.

 

The sound of creaking nails and splintering wood filled the room as the ceiling above them gave way.  Ron yelled, “Down!” and covered Hermione with his own body, pushing her to the floor.  Harry jumped to the opposite side to escape the falling timbers.

 

An ear-piercing scream could be heard, followed by cries of “HELP ME!” and Harry pushed the plaster and wood off of him and crawled toward the edge of the landing, noting that the entire hallway and railing above him was gone.  As he looked up, the crystal chandelier swayed and the ceiling started to crack.  The scream drew his attention down to where Ginny dangled precariously from the partially broken banister.

 

Harry dove forward and grabbed her arm as she hung two stories up from the marble floor below.  Just then a ripping sound alerted them to the fact that the chandelier was pulling loose from its anchorage.

 

Ginny’s chilling scream echoed through the room as the fixture of crystals fell, the weight shifting the air next to her as the massive item gave way to gravity’s pull.  It crashed into the decorative floor below, sending shards of broken glass and metal everywhere and leaving the huge metal frame pointing up at them like some medieval torture chamber waiting for its next victim below.

 

With most of its structural support gone and with Ginny’s additional weight pulling it down, the banister creaked and ripped away from the landing, pivoting out another foot and taking Ginny with it.

 

Harry screamed.  “RON!  Help me!”  Harry held Ginny by one wrist as she shrieked, looking up at him with tears running down her face.  “HARRY!  DON’T LET ME FALL!”

 

Ron lunged forward, grabbing Harry’s legs when he started to slide forward from the weight of Ginny’s body pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

 

“HARRY, PULL ME UP.  PLEASE!” Ginny begged, her legs kicking and fingers desperately trying to hold on to the broken bannister.

 

Through gritted teeth, Harry spoke.  “Ron, can you reach your wand?”

 

“Not without letting go of you!”  Ron grunted with the effort it was taking to hold Harry and Ginny’s weight.

 

Witnessing the scene, Hermione, mouth hung open in recognition, turned her gaze down to the parchment in her hand, reading the next line of text.  “A life swings as Crystal tears, rain from the heavens.”  Her body seemed to move in slow motion as her head rose back to the reality unfolding before her.  

 

“Oh, my god.  It’s really happening!”

 

Her increased volume drew Ron’s attention and he looked over his shoulder at Hermione who was moving toward him.  “Hermione, STOP.  You need to get down.  This may collapse at any minute!”

 

“The story from the curse.  It’s happening all over again!”  Her fist shook around the crumpled up parchment, the evidence finally clear.  “Ron, you have to protect Harry at all costs.  Don’t leave his side!”  She pulled out her wand, prepared to help levitate Ginny when another shift in the landing, sent her toppling back with a screech.

 

Harry called out again.  “Ginny!  You have to reach up!  I can’t hold you like this.  Stop swinging and reach up!  Come on now, DO IT!”

 

Ginny stopped her cries and struggled with all her might to reach her other hand up toward Harry, but before she could reach him, a robed figure glided into the foyer below them, eyes of red and a snake-like slit of a nose.  He chuckled icily, drawing Harry and Ginny’s attention away from their battle with gravity.

 

Ginny couldn’t help but look down, and seeing Voldemort just below her, she hung frozen in fear as the Dark Lord reached a bony, but graceful hand out toward her.  Suddenly her body jerked and went lax.  It was apparent that Voldemort had entered her mind. 

 

“Ah, my sweet Ginny.  We meet again.  Have you missed me, darling?”  

 

Ginny appeared paralyzed, a puppet dangling by one last string.  “Tom?”

 

“Yes, Ginny, love.  It’s time for you to join me.  I’ve missed you.”  His fingers curled in.  “Now, just let go of the railing and come with me.”

 

“NO!  GINNY, NO!”  Harry screamed.  “Don’t listen to him.  Hang on!  Reach up to me!”

 

“Harry, Harry,” he chided soothingly.  “You haven’t done a very good job at your research.  Oh, yes, I know all about it.  Don’t you realize that Ginny here is being forced to relive the curse and as such, she will be placed under my control and you will die, just as it happened before.”

 

“NO!  You leave her alone!”  Hermione had regained her footing and took a chance, throwing a hex toward the Dark Lord, but he waved a hand, easily deflecting it and tossed her back easily.  “Stupid girl.  Your weak, little Muggle spells can’t harm me!”

 

Observing this, Hermione called out to the only other person she knew could help.  Harry needed his body guards and one was missing.  “DRACO!!”  She clutched the parchment in her fist and sat shaking on the landing.  

 

Still maintaining his air of calm disinterest, Voldemort arched an eyebrow at Hermione’s plea.  “Ah, are you calling for the father of that bastard child that you carry?  Yes, I saw how close you and Draco have become.  Your little acting job was quite poor and Draco’s comments about yourself and Harry here, were a little too far fetched.  I’m surprised that young Malfoy would lower himself to be with a Muggle slut.  However, as he’s proven himself a coward, I’m not totally shocked.  Let me assure you, that if that child lives, I know he’ll make an excellent servant.”

 

*** 

 

As Voldemort continued speaking, Draco appeared behind a stack of debris that separated him from Voldemort’s view.  Hermione’s scream had thrown him into a state of panic and it showed upon his face.  Ron spotted him as well and Draco could see the understanding on his face,  how he had come running at Hermione’s distress, just as he promised him that day in the cave.  For once, the two men seemed prepared to put petty jealousies aside, if Draco would just get to Hermione and keep her safe.  

 

Draco absorbed the present landscape, debris everywhere and a dangling Ginny, with Harry and Ron in a deep struggle to keep her from slipping to the mangled iron and glass pit below.  He locked eyes with Ron who stared directly at him, somehow willing information into his brain.  With a hard swallow he felt compelled to look to his right and there was the source of his panic.  Hermione sat on the partially detached landing, wand in hand, trembling and clutching something in her fist.  Then he heard that all too familiar voice that sent an ice cold poker through his back.

 

“Oh, wait.  Perhaps you are carrying a girl.  Well, maybe we could give her to Antonin to raise.  He loves girls!”  Draco could only surmise Hermione’s panic from the look of abject horror on her face.  “One day she could make a beautiful mistress for me, if Antonin doesn’t damage her too much before hand.”

 

 “SHUT UP!”  Hermione screamed as the forced visual images became too much to bear.

 

Draco immediately crouched down, hoping to remain out of Voldemort’s sight, hidden by the broken furniture, beams and plaster.

 

Ginny’s hand started to slip from the sweat of exertion and Voldemort’s grip on her mind.  “Well, Ginny.  I guess this is goodbye to you, too darling.  I hate to see such a lovely pure-blood go.”  He pulled his hand back, seemingly releasing his hold on her faculties and Ginny screamed again, a combination of mental and physical pain coursing through her body.  “Tsk, tsk.  Such a waste, but, alas, I have other matters to tend to.”

 

With a sudden twist of his body, “Avada Kadavra” slithered forth from the serpent-like mouth and a shot of green light soared directly at Hermione.

 

“NO!  HERMIONE!”  Ron cried as Hermione lurched back, out of his line of sight, her body flat on the landing.

 

Ron sucked in a deep breath and roared out a cry so loud that the remaining walls were sure to collapse from the vibration.  Harry started crying too, “No, no, no,” shaking his head even as his arms trembled with the effort to hold his love.  Hermione’s words rung in Ron’s ears and he held fast to Harry’s legs, refusing to let go.  Draco’s face went white with fear, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall as he cautiously stepped around the debris. Remaining low, he made his way up the partially intact staircase, realizing that every few feet he exposed himself to Voldemort’s view.  All he had to do was glance a bit more to his right.

 

Bill and Fred appeared and pushed their way through the wreckage from the other side of the room, also trying to stay out of Voldemort’s field of vision and get a shot at him, but there were too many studs and pieces of wall and furniture blocking their sight.  

 

Draco viewed Hermione’s reaction to the curse, her body sailing back as the light flew toward her.  He could just see her legs as she lay on the floor of the landing.  However, he held on to the most infinitesimal amount of hope that the actual curse had missed her, even as his heart sped with increasing worry that he was mistaken and his friend, his unrequited love, was indeed lost forever.  Determined to keep hope alive, he crept up the staircase, as quickly and quietly as possible.  Drawing his wand from his pocket, he also tried to find a direct angle on Voldemort, but realized he had to climb a bit higher in order to fire off a spell unhindered.

 

A growl drew Voldemort’s attention to his left and the great werewolf Fenrir Greyback scowled at something just behind the pile of plaster and wood.  “Ah, Fenrir, have you found something to play with?”  Fenrir gave Voldemort an evil smile.  “Good.  Well, you go out and play now.  I’m having my fun in here.”  Bill and Fred had been spotted.

 

Fenrir leapt forward, taking on his old enemy who was already marked by scars from the previous encounter.  Fred appeared a second later, wand drawn and followed as Bill and Greyback tumbled out a doorway toward the back of the house.

 

*** 

 

It wasn’t until that moment that Harry heard the sounds of battle that were being waged in an around the house.  With all his energies focused on the lifeline between himself and Ginny, he had initially tuned everything else out.  However, he let his thoughts drift only for a brief moment as he considered Remus, Tonks, George and everyone else who had been in the house that morning.  He willed all hope and prayer toward them as he knew they were fighting for their lives.

 

At almost the same time, Draco made eye contact with Ron, the two of them sharing in a brief second of grief, before Draco shook it off and continued to climb.  Ron, still wrapped around Harry’s legs wasn’t trying to hide his pain.  His face showed layers of tears as he strained, pouring all of his pain into the remaining strength in his arms.    Four or five more hooded figures appeared on the floor on both sides of Voldemort.  Harry’s heart sank, fearing that the support around them was crumbling if these Death Eaters had arrived this soon.

 

“My friends!  Just in time to watch the show!”  Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry.  “Well, Harry, I guess it’s time for our fun to end.  This should be especially satisfying as I get to kill you and you can be blamed for dropping our dear, sweet Ginny to her death as her young supple body breaks on all this metal and broken glass.  Oh, I do so hate to see her get all cut up.  Maybe she’ll actually survive the fall, but don’t worry, I’ll put her out of her misery with due haste.”

 

Ginny’s eyes turned back to Harry.  “Harry, I love you.  I’m sorry.”  Her fingers relaxed their grip on the railing so that only Harry’s strength was holding her in place.

 

He realized that Ginny intended to let go so that he could save himself.  “No!  Ginny!  Hold on.  Ginny, please.  I love you!  Please don’t leave me!”

 

Voldemort turned to his friends, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “How touching.”

 

Harry’s purple veins pulsed as he strained to hold her, but she slowly slipped free of his hand as Harry screamed in anguish, “NOOOOO!” and Ron cried out “GINNY!” at the same moment.

 

“Goodbye Harry Potter” came the smooth sound from below and Voldemort raised his wand to send the final blast of death when his concentration was broken by a figure on his right.  Draco had transfigured a rope which wrapped around his waist and leg, and he swung down, clutching Ginny around the waist just as her finger tips left Harry’s hand.  Like Tarzan on a vine, he glided across the foyer, taking Ginny along pushing her firmly toward the second floor balcony as he scrambled up the edge himself, Ginny’s hand still on the rope.  Harry was so surprised and relieved to see this spectacle that he almost didn’t hear the dreaded words slipping from Voldemort’s lips.  Instinctively, he pulled himself back and reached for his wand, knowing it would be too late and feeling himself move in slow motion.  His brain was trying to relate so many things at one moment that Harry could only brace for the impact, hoping that it wouldn’t be too painful.

 

Just as the green flame arrived at his chest, it stopped, crashing into some kind of invisible barrier and he turned to see Hermione’s hand outstretched to Ron as his wand pointed at Harry.  Hearing a loud hum, he glanced right and saw that Draco, also, had his wand pointed directly at Harry, forming a joint shield.

 

The relief of hearing Hermione’s voice overwhelmed him.  “Harry.  The curse is reversing!  The guards that failed in their duty before have succeeded this time.  Your powers are increasing!  You have to use them!”

 

Harry, now firmly gripping his wand, rotated back around to face his nemesis and yelled “Go to hell, you evil bastard!!” as he threw a cutting curse at Voldemort’s face.  The vile lord raised his hand dutifully, a smirk on his lips, obviously anticipating an easy deflection of the curse.  Indeed, some of it bounced off, but he turned his palm up in shock as he noticed a small cut sliced across his hand.  Perplexed, he threw the killing curse again, unable to believe that his hated enemy had cheated death a second time.  He gaped in utter disbelief as the shield around Harry held, the curse rebounding again, requiring Voldemort to duck to his right. Draco and Ron both ground their teeth and shook as the power flowed through them, taking unbelievable energy to maintain the protection.  The other figures around Voldemort began throwing their own volley of curses, aimed at Ron, Draco and Hermione.  Every wicked, unethical, unforgivable spell launched from their wands so that the air was awash in a spectacle of color and energy.  Draco and Ron only cringed, assuming they would be hit and would fall at any moment, but kept their shield on Harry, remarkably remaining unscathed in the process.  Little did they know that Harry could hear every curse in the room and reacted to block it or wave if off before it hit.  Hermione raised her own shield and, bending to Ron’s pleas, evaded their attack by hiding behind some nearby rubble.  

 

Noting his success, Harry gathered up all his magical power and fired a second cutting curse, this one easily slicing through Voldemort’s cheek.  The Dark Lord’s hand jerked up to his injured skin and he roared with anger, as the blood began to flow through his fingers.  The room nearly crackled with power, as a barrage of curses flew from Voldemort’s wand, one after the other, with such speed and intensity that all of the witnesses stood, mouths agape at the sight before them.  Ron and Draco were forced to release their shield for a moment, instincts taking over as they worked to protect themselves and those around them.  

 

Voldemort and several of his supporters began to cheer when their curses finally made contact with Harry, now that the shield was down.  Everyone witnessed the slashes cutting through Harry’s clothing, the cracking noise of bones breaking, and indeed, Harry’s blood did appear.  Ginny began to wail with the most excruciating pain as the memory of her dreams became reality before her.  She had to cover her eyes, unable to watch the mutilation of this man whom she had loved for years.  Voldemort held up a hand to stop the volley, sensing that they had inflicted enough damage as Harry had fallen to the floor of the balcony.  He truly wanted to watch the life drain from Harry Potter’s eyes and would not be denied this ultimate pleasure.  Wiping the blood from his cheek once more, he took several confident steps toward this thorn in his existence, knowing that his soul was safe and Harry’s pitiful excuses for friends were no match for him.

 

Voldemort raised his eyes in surprise as Harry pushed himself off the floor, sitting with his back toward Voldemort, his shoulders rising and falling with the heavy breath that still filled him.  In fact, this was more than surprising and Voldemort spoke again.  “Harry, you must be very strong of will and body.  I know it hurts terribly and you just want to lie down and die.  But, you don’t have to try and impress me.  I’m perfectly content to sit here for as long as is necessary and watch you bleed to death.  So, don’t strain yourself.  In fact, I’ll even levitate you down to the floor so that we can be together in your final moments.”  A snicker was heard from various hooded figures around the room.

 

*** 

 

Harry sensed a kind of muted pang as each curse had hit him.  Yes, he felt it and yes, it stung, but not to the level of true intolerable pain.  It was more like getting a paper cut as each slash tore through his chest and legs.  The bone crushing curse didn’t actually hurt, but his leg did give way beneath him and he was forced to the ground.  The funny thing was that he never actually felt in danger.  Never once did he panic or feel a sense of dread, only a curiosity over the sensations that were marking his body.

 

He pushed himself up and looked down at the blood coated tear in his shirt, still wondering why it didn’t hurt.  His heart was still beating, his lungs still taking air.  How could this be?  His hands reached into the torn shirt and pulled it away from his chest to examine himself more closely and once again, viewed the process his body was going through to repair itself.  The skin healed even as he watched.  He threw his head up toward Ron, looking for confirmation or maybe an explanation.  Instead what he saw was the raw agony of shame and regret on Ron’s face and he knew that his friend was wallowing in guilt from dropping the shield that had protected him.

 

Harry flexed his hand, examining his arm for function and then took in a deep breath, a rejuvenating breath that confirmed his life and the strength that still flowed through it.  Then, to everyone’s astonished faces, he began to rise, his formerly crushed leg, supporting his weight once more.  

 

*** 

 

Voldemort had turned briefly in reaction to the chuckles from his followers, enjoying the moment he had so longed for.  When he turned back, the sight before him curdled his blood as Harry Potter stood, fists clenched at his sides and turned to face him.  Voldemort literally shook with rage, an unimaginable fury at having his moment stolen from him.  With a true demonstration of the Dark Lord’s immense power, he bellowed and launched a curse, sending a flailing series of daggers straight at Harry’s chest, but this time it was Harry who raised his hand, performing wandless magic to deflect it with the same ease that Voldemort had always mastered in the past.

 

*** 

 

Harry, scrutinizing the supposedly foreign object that was attached to his arm, shook with power and outrage as he pushed all of his energy at Voldemort, his magical grip taking hold of Voldemort’s throat.  The dark lord’s blood-stained hand reached toward his neck, trying to pry the invisible fingers from his throat.  Incredibly, the gathering of Death Eaters around him only stood and watched, each either frozen in fear or paralyzed by the display of what was taking place before them.  Voldemort staggered back, still clawing at his throat for relief when the robed figure of Bellatrix LeStrange pushed through the doorway, glanced at the scene and rushed toward him.  “My Lord?!”  Following the stream of energy, she found the source of the curse and pointed her wand at Harry just as Voldemort clutched at her arm, pulling her down with him as he fell to his knees.  

 

Everyone on the balcony seemed to come back to life.  Hermione crawled out from behind the shelter and, in true Hermione-like fashion, instructed her friend from across the balcony.  

 

“Ginny!  You have to end this.  You have to demand justice!”  

 

Ginny stuttered out a final sob and picked herself up from behind Draco, her heart full at the sight of Harry’s very live presence.  “I demand justice!”  Bill and Fred reappeared through the remnants of the kitchen door, each bleeding on both arms and panting, but otherwise very much alive.

 

“GET HER!”  Bellatrix commanded to the others surrounding them numbly on the floor, even as Voldemort’s eyes began to roll back into his head.

 

However, before anyone could release a single curse, Bill lit Voldemort’s robes on fire giving Draco a chance to scale the rubble and arrive at Harry’s side, he and Ron flanking him as they raised their shield once again.

 

His throat nearly collapsed from the invisible grip, Voldemort struggled to scream, his robes now fully engulfed.  All eyes on the floor shifted up to Harry, just as the tide turned, all power and energy in the room now flowing toward him.  Sucking in a breath, Harry felt the full extent of his magic pulsing like electricity in this veins.  He calmly called out ‘Expelliarmus’ and Voldemort’s wand flew from his hand with Harry calling ‘Accio’ as it shot toward Harry’s grasp.  Bellatrix unknowingly caught fire as well and struggled to remove her robes as Voldemort rattled out a command.  

 

It seemed that unable to get to Harry, he had decided on the next best thing.  “Die Bitch!”  Voldemort forced his charred arm toward Ginny, the magic still flowing from him with great force.  Draco jumped to his right, trying to get her within his sights, but Harry realized that he wouldn’t get there in time.

 

With incomprehensible speed, Harry Apparated, landing in front of Ginny.  His torso collapsed back, but then absorbed the curse, shocking everyone, his hand returning the invisible vice grip on Voldemort’s throat once again.  “You -  will -  not -  harm her!” Harry seethed through his teeth, the veins in his neck plump with anger.

 

“What is this?” Voldemort gasped out, his robes now black and shredded, the room wreaking of burnt flesh.  He began looking to his followers for understanding, for an explanation, for help, but they stood wide-eyed and motionless.  Only Bellatrix was moving, trying to untangle her wand from her charred robes.

 

Harry turned toward Hermione who was still grasping the document in her hand, shaking in disbelief, blood trickling down her temple.  She made eye contact with him and he seemed to read her mind, knowing her instructions before the words ever escaped her lips.  He spoke loudly.  “Draco, I release you of your obligation.  Leave me and shield Ginny.”

 

Draco’s eyes danced to Hermione in disbelief, but he immediately dropped his shield spell off of Harry, almost as if forced to do so and grabbed Ginny, pushing her behind him as he raised a new shield around the two of them.

 

Ron’s shield was still active, but it was taking all of Ron’s energy to keep it up.  Harry Apparated again, this time appearing on the floor directly in front of the burnt, cowering remains of Tom Riddle.  The shield moved with him, the glow still evident as it arcked from Ron’s wand.  

 

Harry repeated his instructions, now feeling certain of their validity.  “Ron, I release you of your obligation.  Leave me and shield Hermione.”  

 

“No, Harry.  You’ll be unprotected!  I can’t do that!”  Holding the shield seemed to have become even more difficult following Harry’s command and Ron had to use both hands to hold his wand.

 

“He can’t hurt me anymore, Ron.  Release your shield and care for Hermione.”  Ron hesitated.  “But, the others…”

 

“Ron.”  His best mate understood, reluctantly dropped his shield and crawled to Hermione’s side clearly praying that his decision would prove correct.  

 

Almost everyone in the room grimaced as they heard the most sickening sound of Voldemort’s evil laugh, weak and muffled, but still bone chilling.  Harry knew at once the reason for this laughter.  Yes, he inflicted great damage to Voldemort’s body, but Riddle could not be truly killed.  He had failed to eliminate all the pieces of Voldemort’s soul and so he knew that all he could do was cause as much pain and damage as possible and hopefully strike at all his followers and take them out as well.  He tried to push the thought of Voldemort’s eventual return to the back of his mind, knowing that if he dwelled on it for more than a second, it would drain him completely.

 

A noise to his left made him turn and he saw Hermione’s hand reaching out to set down a small clay jar on the landing.  She reached into her robes and pulled forth another.  Her voice was soft and broken as it appeared an injury had left her weakened.  “Harry.  His soul.  The pieces of his soul…” she collapsed back against Ron, her energy spent, but Harry understood.  Ginny did as well and began to crawl behind the group, pulling her jar from her robe pocket as well.

 

Suddenly Harry felt reborn.  Somehow, someone had shown mercy, shown him a way to end the evil that writhed before him.  He just wanted this to end, but he couldn’t resist the desire to see Voldemort’s expression when he wiped away the reason for that sickening chuckle.  So, he set himself just feet in front of Voldemort and spoke in a menacing voice that even Voldemort’s followers found creepier than their own leader.

 

Even though it was hard to distinguish any expression on Voldemort’s burned face, Harry was sure that the previous smirk had disappeared in the wake of Hermione’s edict.  

 

“What’s so funny, Tom?  I’d love for you to let me in on the joke.”

 

Bellatrix re-gathered herself and now stood poised to strike, but Voldemort raised a halting hand and she backed away, the ever obedient second.  

 

“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you.”  His coughing and rasping voice continued.  “You see, Harry, you can’t kill me.  Oh, yes, you can damage this body, but I am immortal dear boy.  So, you enjoy your little foray into evil.  I’m rather enjoying your display of frivolity.”  Voldemort pulled himself up to face Harry, skin now peeling off his blackened arms.  “Know this, you worthless excuse for a wizard.  I will come back and I will make sure than you and all those you love suffer for years to come.  Yes, I will be around to ensure that every descendant of the Potter line lives in fear and dies in torturous agony under my hand and I’ll smile and laugh in glee each time I watch the life drain from them.”

 

With quiet fury, Harry held his wand up for all to see and then methodically stowed it in his pocket.  Voldemort, and Bellatrix to a certain extent, appeared as amazed spectators at the circus, amusedly wondering what trick he would do without his wand.  Harry’s fingers curled in and his claw-like hand vibrated as the rush of energy built within him.  He knew beyond a doubt that forces far greater than he now controlled his destiny and with a flick of his wrist, he drew his hand sharply across the space in front of him, his head whipping back as the power course through him, effectively slashing Voldemort’s throat.  A burnt hand clutched at the spurting artery.

 

“My Lord!”  Bellatrix cried, lunging toward him.  Her contempt for Harry shone in her eyes as she trained her wand on his sights, but Harry turned his hand palm up, lifting her off the ground as she examined her surroundings with wide, panic-filled eyes.  Then, as if popping a soap bubble, Harry bent his elbow, shooting his arm forward and Bellatrix flew cartwheeling directly into the gathered Death Eaters, taking several of them out with her.  The rest of the group became motionless, most with terrified or confused looks on their faces.  They had been so confident in Voldemort’s power that they had failed to even defend themselves in the face of his opposition.

 

Voldemort began crawling, backing away from Harry as his neck continued to bleed.  His eyes glowed red, almost on fire with evil as he gurgled, effectively drowning in his own blood.  Harry slowly, menacingly advanced on him, the trail of blood streaking the floor as Remus, Tonks, Arthur and Mad-Eye appeared at the edge of the room, holding several Death Eaters in custody.  The sight of Voldemort cowering below a menacing-looking Harry was almost too frightening to comprehend.

 

Harry glared at the robbed figures to his right, the green of his eyes burning into them and they coward and began to raise their hands in defeat.  With one hand, he snapped Voldemort’s wand in half, throwing it behind him to the ground, still advancing, shaking with unexplained power.  Voldemort, now drenched in blood, was still trying to fight back, spurts of magic eminating from his finger tips.  Nothing he aimed at Harry seemed to impact him at all and Harry spoke to the audience, his booming voice filling the remains of the room with an unearthly timber. 

 

“Let it be known that anyone who tries to harm those I love…” he approached the form of Bellatrix, who now lay on the ground, holding an injured leg and his voice grew to a deafening volume “will have to deal with ME!”  The floor vibrated from the sheer volume.  This cowering woman was only second to Voldemort on Harry’s hate list and he wanted to crush her world, just as she had done to so many others’.  Still staring at her, he called out.  “Accio jars!”  One by one, the seven clay jars flew to Harry obediently and he squeezed each in his hand, crushing the clay to dust that rained over Bellatrix’s head.  Several gasps were released at this display of strength, but otherwise the room was ghostly quiet.  As each one disintegrated, the red glow of their contents floated up into the air, swirling, joining together in a ball of flame.

 

Harry focused on the orb floating before him, not truly knowing what to do with it, but somehow he sensed the correct path to follow.  Maybe it _was_ his destiny directing him, for the curse that spilled from his lips was utterly foreign and he spoke it without knowing its meaning or form.  It didn’t seem to matter, for the moment the curse struck the sphere, it burst and Voldemort wailed, a high-pitched shriek that pierced the hearts of everyone in the room.  Even the most hard-hearted of creatures would have cried buckets at the sound of this cry.  For the first time, Harry saw sheer panic and horror on Voldemort’s face as he realized his demise was truly at hand.

 

Focusing his power back on the Dark Lord, Harry ordered.  “This is for Cedric!”  Voldemort’s foot was severed from his ankle, more blood spilling onto the ground.

 

“This is for my father!”  He turned his hand at Voldemort’s arm and it crushed in upon itself.  It seems he could no longer speak, his throat closed with blood.  But his eyes…the slits began to round out, to form back into the shape of humanity, the immortality of evil lost to the truth of humanity.

 

“And, this is for my Mother!”  This time Harry never even raised his hand, but just glared at Voldemort, the blast surging threw the bright green eyes, and Voldemort’s chest began collapsing, the sound of ribs snapping as the anguished remains sunk to the floor.  With one final twisting action in the air, Voldemort’s head ripped from his body, rolling to land at the feet of his followers, all of whom were now either on their knees, bowing toward Harry or vomiting at the sight before them.

 

A small sparkling light drifted forth from Voldemort’s chest, his last remaining pebble of soul escaping, drifting, searching for a new body.  Suddenly it made a bee-line for the nearest physical form, Bill Weasley.  Realizing the full impact of the curse, Bill called to his father, “Dad, the kin must bear witness.  You have to banish his soul to the underworld.”

 

“What?”

 

“Say it, Dad!  Tell his soul that you seek justice.”

 

Arthur’s eyes nearly popped from his sockets and he spoke with bold intensity.  “I seek justice and banish your soul to the underworld!”

 

The ground began to tremble, the marble floor cracking open at the seams as if a key had just unlatched a door.  Harry appeared frozen, standing right at the edge of this blackhole, but unable to move his violently shaking form.  Bill spoke, numbly muttering the last lines from the curse’s memorized poem.  “An evil incarnate, his soul washed in red, Diminish to dust, his force never to dread.”

 

Voldemort’s remaining flesh and bone, began to wither and dry.  The blood turned to ochre dust, the bones crumbled and his charred robes turned to a gray sand.  Harry’s hair flew straight up into the air as a funnel of power enveloped the ashen remains and the light of his soul began to descend into a giant void in the floor.  Fred ran out and picked up the remaining pieces of the snapped and discarded wand and tossed it into the funnel.

 

An incredible siphoning sound rushed through the air and then all was still.  The funnel had disappeared, the marbled floor repaired as if having never been touched.  A dead calm hung overwhelming all who remained.  Everyone stood in absolute silence, only the faint sound of Bellatrix’s sobbing floated through the air.  Each face echoed fear and awe at the display of power they had witnessed.  No one dared move until finally Harry turned toward Bill and Arthur, the glow in his eyes still bright.  “It’s done.”

 

Harry strode deliberately toward the group of Death Eaters that were now huddled on the floor, clearly terrified of what they had witnessed.  Their entire universe, all beliefs and commitments, had just been erased.  The air rippled with the shadow of its recent history, the power still glowing around Harry, all hearts poised to stop.  

 

Harry glared at each of them intently and finally spoke.  “You tell the others what happens if they cross me or those I care for.”  He reached down and grabbed the arm of one of them, pushing up the sleeve to reveal the dark mark.  He focused on the vile tattoo, his knuckles turning white as they dug into the man’s forearm.  With uncompleted rage, he turned his eyes to the face of the trembling Death Eater, no longer the threatening, masked creature of darkness, but a frightened, insecure, insignificant man.  Harry still shook, unable to reign in the incredible rage that had overtaken him.  A moment later, the Death Eater began to jerk against Harry’s grip, screaming in agony as Harry’s power coursed through his veins, burning him from the inside out.

 

“Harry.”  

 

Ginny’s voice broke through the silence like a beam of light.  Draco appeared exhausted, having released the shield on her and somehow she made her way to the broken staircase and was carefully crawling down, concern evident in her tone.

 

Harry dropped the appendage and the Death Eater collapsed, his screams reduced to whimpers as he cradled his arm.  Hearing his name, he spun around and strode hypnotically to the bottom of the destroyed staircase.  Still wandless, his body continuing to radiate a nearly visible power, he gently levitated Ginny down until he could finally, carefully wrap his arms lovingly around her.  The beast within him tamed at her voice.  Her head and leg were bleeding and her face streaked with tears as she reached around Harry’s neck, no fear, only relief etched on her face.  They both collapsed to the floor, holding each other tightly.  Everyone watched, shocked, immobile as if waiting for time to give its permission to resume.

 

The finality that was evident in the room left everyone unable to speak or move.  

 

Ron broke the silence.

 

“Dad.”  Arthur’s head was the lone movement in the room, his fatherly instincts directing him toward his son.  “Hermione needs a healer.”

 

Fred’s head jerked up toward his brother and with a twist he Apparated to the back of the broken balcony.  Together, he, Draco and Ron worked to levitate Hermione carefully down to Bill who waited with concern on the floor.  “I’ll take her to St. Mungo’s right away,” Bill stated and lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her swiftly out of the damaged house.

 

Tonks and Mad-Eye organized the rest of the Aurors who took the remaining Death Eaters into custody and left for the Ministry.  Remus called up to Draco, Ron and Fred who stood on the balcony above, all looking as if all their concentration was solely focused on breathing.  The destruction around them was mind-boggling.

 

“Fred, why don’t you Apparate down and help out here.”  He nodded and with a soft pop, Fred disappeared, leaving Draco and Ron still stranded up top.  The staircase gave a weakened rumble and collapsed further, leaving the balcony totally disconnected from the stairs.  Ron chuckled at the tremor.  It seemed to inconsequential after what they had just witnessed.  Turning to a numb-looking Draco, he rested a hand on his shoulder, his voice raw as he whispered.  “We did it.”

 

“Yeah.” Draco replied, seemingly unable to verbalize any of what he was feeling.  And, in what seemed the oddest moment of their lives, Ron embraced him, offering a firm slap on the back.

 

Arthur’s voice rose from below.  “Son.  I don’t think you or Draco should Apparate right now.  Let us levitate you down.”  One by one, Remus and Arthur brought them safely to the tiled floor.  Arthur realized the wisdom of his decision as Ron and Draco’s legs appeared shaky when they landed.

 

Together, they moved toward the doorway, intent on making a hasty exit for St. Mungo’s, but they stopped next to the sight of Harry and Ginny, both holding each other, Harry’s face buried in her long red hair, gripping her fiercely as she stroked her finger tips soothingly up and down his back.

 

Ron paused, visions of his best mate’s fury-filled destruction still fresh, and cautiously placed his hand on Harry’s head.  “You alright, mate?”

 

Harry didn’t speak, but nodded his head as he continued to embrace Ron’s sister.

 

“We’ll meet you at St. Mungo’s.”  Ron squeezed Harry’s shoulder before he and Draco exited the house.

 

Just as they left, Molly rushed in, absorbing the scene of devastation with motherly angst written all over her face.  Finding Ginny crumpled on the floor with Harry, she assumed the worst and gasped, running toward them. Arthur’s hand reached out, gripping her arm firmly.  His eyes appeared overcome with emotion as he pulled his wife into a tight hug, seeking comfort and offering it at the same time.  

 

“Arthur, what’s wrong with Ginny?” Molly asked into his shoulder.

 

“They’re alright.  You need to leave them alone for a while.  Molly, it’s over.  It’s really over.  Oh, love…”  Arthur pressed his wife to him, clearly hoping to stave off the moisture that glazed over his vision.

 

Ginny, hearing her mother’s frantic voice turned a tear streaked face up to look at her parents, locked in the same embrace as she and Harry.  Molly could now finally see Harry’s head cradled against her daughter, his ear pressed to her chest as if assuring himself of her heart beat, his own wet face streaked with multiple trails of tears.  Ginny tenderly stroked the hair back from his forehead, a similar set of tears marring her cheeks.  

 

Molly interrupted.  “Ginny dear, you’re bleeding.”

 

Harry immediately drew back, eyes puffy but wide, examining Ginny for injuries and spied the now dark red blood on her forehead.  He quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood up without saying anything.  Ginny attempted to follow, but before she could even get to her knees, Harry lifted her into his chest with ease.  With sure strides, he headed for the only doorway still intact, walking past Molly and Arthur, stopping briefly to look at them and say, “I’ll take care of her.”

 

*** 

 

Ron arrived at St. Mungo’s, immediately searching for Hermione.  The chaos from the attack had healers scurrying left and right, families waiting for news and patients appearing with alarming frequency.  

 

Draco hadn’t left his side and reacted promptly as Ron instructed “You check that hall, I’ll check this one.”  

 

They split up, going room to room until finally Ron found her.  She had a bandage wrapped around her arm, her lap covered with a blanket on the bed.  He rushed to her side, holding her face in his hands and kissing her repeatedly, first urgently, then slowing with loving tenderness.

 

*** 

 

Within seconds, Draco looked into the room, relieved to find them together, safe and sound.  Decorum told him to turn and leave, but some form of curiosity and hopefulness made him remain in the doorway, watching them.  The corners of his mouth inched up and he realized that his heart felt full with happiness and relief at the sight before him.  Smiling fully, the realization hit him that for the first time in months, he wasn’t feeling any jealousy or sense of loss, just contentment and unwavering peace.  The presence of a small hand on his shoulder turned his attention toward the hallway and his eyes widened softly at the angelic face of Gabrielle, her blue gaze on him, concern evident on her face.

 

“Fleur told me what happened and I waz worried you had been injured.”

 

The corners of his mouth inched up.  It was a genuine smile, easy and flowing.  The few small cuts and bruises he had sustained had no impact on him, but even if they had, he wouldn’t want to worry the beautiful young girl.

 

“No.  I’m fine.  Everyone is just fine.”  Draco’s smile faded for a second, realizing the newness of his feelings for her.  

 

She glanced away, somewhat abruptly, and Draco wondered if she was experiencing the same thing.  Her youth still screamed at him with morality and manners.  She was just a year or two beyond his touch, but he was so delighted to see her that he reached out for her hand and raised it to his lips.

 

“Can we go and talk for a while?”

 

She smiled and nodded, a slight blush racing over her cheeks.  Draco gestured for her to lead the way and followed with a new sense of purpose.

 

*** 

 

Moments later, Harry arrived with Ginny in his arms.  Word had already started to spread about Harry’s remarkable feat and the incredible power he displayed.  Some healers were actually backing away from him as he moved down the hall with Ginny asking for assistance.  The wing became utterly silent until, finally, a young male healer stepped forward.

 

“Please follow me.”  They were led into a room where Ginny’s head was bandaged and a healer finally got up the courage to look Harry over as well, determining that he had no real physical injuries what so ever.  

 

Another healer appeared in Hermione’s room, only to be inundated with questions from Ron, asking how she was and if the baby was safe.  He explained that she had a nasty head injury, probably a mild concussion and a few lacerations that would require her to stay in the hospital for a day or so.  They were assured, however, that the baby was fine.

 

*** 

 

Ginny’s voice echoed from the hall.  “I’m fine, Harry.  Really.  Let’s just check on Hermione.  Please?”  A soft knock announced their arrival to Hermione’s room.  Harry’s head peered around the edge of the door, opening it fully when he saw Ron sitting on the side of the bed.  He held the door as Ginny entered and walked directly to Hermione’s side.  The two soon-to-be sisters embraced, each adorned in varying bandages and each asking about the other at the same time.

 

Harry made his way around to the opposite side of the bed, remaining silent as the two ladies spoke.  His focus moved up toward Ron, who sensed his stare and pulled his eyes off of Hermione to look into the face of his best mate.  Ron smiled at him and realized that this man, this boyhood friend had just demonstrated amazing power and strength in the face of incredible odds and was still standing there appearing humble and average as if nothing had changed.

 

He saw Harry reach over, hesitate and finally take Hermione’s hand, squeezing it gently to show his love and support.  Something stirred within him.  Suddenly, his future appeared, laid clearly out before him.  All of his hopes and dreams, his ambitions that for so long had been repressed for fear they would never be realized; they all became real.  This lanky, green-eyed boy had saved them all and Ron walked around the bed and pulled him into a suffocating hug.

 

Harry seemed surprised at first, but quickly reciprocated, embracing his friend and felt the emotion well-up within him from the power of love and devotion that had been demonstrated that day.

 

Molly and Arthur walked in to witness this, neither boy releasing their grasp, even in the presence of Ron’s parents.  A moment later, Ron pulled back and Hermione pulled Harry toward her and kissed him softly on the cheek, whispering “we did it, Harry.”

 

Hermione’s parents arrived within thirty minutes.  Arthur pulled them aside and explained what had happened.  Mrs. Granger was in a right state, relieved, but tearful just the same.  

 

Ron refused to leave Hermione’s side, even when Mr. Granger wanted to speak with her alone.  He was still terrified at the prospect of her being taken from him, but Mr. Granger admitted his regret at his earlier decision and told them that he would be thrilled to see them wed.  

 

The rest of the family came and went over the course of the next few minutes, but soon the press had arrived and George came running in to warn them that they were going room to room, searching for Harry.  Even the Aurors present were having a hard time keeping them all at a reasonable distance.  

 

At just about the same time, Ginny began to complain of her exhaustion and Arthur noted Harry’s distracted appearance and suggested that they all head back to the Burrow.  Molly agreed, insisting that they needed rest and a good, solid hot meal.  So, with George and Arthur running interference, Harry and Ginny made a quick escape through the Floo.  

 

Ron refused to leave Hermione.  After checking on the rest of her brood, Molly returned to Hermione’s room that night and found Ron holding Hermione’s hand as they slept, his chair pushed right up against her bed.  Grabbing a nearby blanket, she placed it over him, gently stroking his hair back.  A smile broke out over her face at the sight of her beautiful grown-up boy and his lovely wife-to-be, both safe and whole.

 

When Molly and Arthur finally headed up to bed that night, they first checked Ron’s room on the way up but found it empty.  Looking at one another, they knew exactly where to look next.  Indeed, Harry was spooned behind Ginny on her bed, holding her tight, both fully clothed.  Despite the shock of finding them like this, Molly smiled at her husband and he led her up the steps of their home, passing the numerous family photos that adorned the walls. 

 

Generations of pictures, of family and friends, past and present, a family that was now finally secure and destined for a wonderful future.  The fate of those generations now wide open and hopeful.

**EPILOGUE**  

“Ow!  Ronald Weasley, I hope you don’t expect me to do this again!”

 

His eyes smiled, running his palm repeatedly over her forehead, smoothing back the sweaty ringlets.  “Stop talking and breathe with me.  Come on now.” He instructed, his voice slow and steady.  “One, two, three, four…”

 

“I’m tired of counting!  I want this baby OUT OF ME!”

 

Everyone in the waiting area heard that last statement and they all looked at one another, most smiling, some looking a bit frightened.  The entire family had gathered there over the course of the past couple of hours, hearing that Hermione had gone into labor.

 

Harry had to sneak in, using a disguise, as the press was still hounding him for interviews, even four months after the final showdown.  Now, he sat amongst a sea of red with Ginny perched on his knee, a sparkling diamond on her left hand as she spoke softly to him.  Molly had retrieved her from Hogwarts the moment she got the news of the impending birth and she and Harry were taking advantage of the brief time together before she had to go back to school.

 

For some odd reason, Bill kept pacing the floor as Fleur watched.  Her expression seemed to speak for her, asking if this is how her husband was going to act when the time came for him to become a father.

 

It wasn’t long before a tiny cry broke the silence of the waiting room and Molly stood up in anticipation.  Moments later, a beaming Ron strode into the hallway.

 

“It’s a girl!”

 

Molly rushed over, throwing her arms around her youngest son as she almost cried with delight.  “Mum.  It’s actually a girl!”  The hugs, kisses and candy cigars – at Hermione’s insistence - were passed freely around and soon everyone had offered their best wishes and began to depart.

 

Ginny lingered with Harry, hoping to spend a little more time with each other and also wanting to see Hermione, who up until now was getting cleaned up and resting a bit.  Soon, Ron came back out and gestured for them to join him.

 

They walked in quietly to find a glowing Hermione, a wrapped, pink bundle in her arms, nuzzled up against her lavender nightgown as she sat up against the fluffy pillows.  Harry ventured to the only open spot on the far side of the bed and immediately offered a kiss.

 

“Harry.  Meet your god-child.”  She pulled the blanket down enough for them to see the little scrunched up face, perfectly cherubic and Harry laughed and glanced at Ron.  Her little head was covered in wavy red hair, her skin still baby white without a freckle in sight, although Harry thought that may change with time.  

 

Hermione offered the baby to Harry, who quickly glanced at everyone in the room, not sure if he should be trusted to hold such a tiny, delicate creature, but Hermione nudged him.  “Go ahead.  You can hold her.  Just watch the head.”

 

Harry scooped his hand under the child’s head and lifted her into his arms, her little hand wrapping entirely around his pinky.  He walked over to Ginny who immediately cooed at the little one.

 

“Gin.”  Ron cut in.  “Hermione and I want you to be her godmother.”  Ginny smiled at both of them and quickly moved around to her brother.  She lifted her arms, knowing she couldn’t reach him, but he bent down and wrapped her in a warm embrace.  “I’d be honored.”

 

The baby traveled first to Ginny and then to Ron as the four of them laughed and brought Ginny up to speed on the latest activities in their lives.  A soft knock drew their attention a short while later and Hermione called out.

 

“Come in.”

 

The door swung open, revealing a smiling Gabrielle, dressed in a beautiful blue dress, her hair in a long braid.  Another shock of blonde hair entered directly behind her.

 

“Gaby!  Draco!  Come in.  Please.”  

 

Harry relaxed on the side chair, Ginny on his knee, his hand clasped with Hermione’s as she sat up in bed, covered with a white blanket.  Her bedside table boasted a huge bouquet of pink roses, a loving card from Ron attached with several other cards adorning the table.

 

Ron cradled his new daughter with seemingly experienced care as he walked over to Draco, offering his hand.  Draco accepted, smiling at his new found friends.  Gabrielle stayed close to Draco, nuzzling into his side with what appeared great affection as he wrapped an arm around her back, his posture relaxed, but still screaming of appropriateness.

 

“So, how did the hearing go?” Harry asked.

 

Draco ran a quick hand through his hair.  “Oh, good, good.  Thanks to you.”  He smiled warmly at his former arch-enemy.

 

“Zee Malfoy fortune vaz returned to Draco after Harry’s testeemony.  Heez fahzer no longer controls any of it.  Eet all belongs to Draco, now.”

 

Hermione jumped in.  “That’s wonderful news!”

 

“Yeah.  Well, I’m letting my mother keep the manor.  It’s her home, really, but I control everything else.”  He turned his focus to the swaddled infant in Ron’s arm.  “So, this is the newest Weasley, huh?”

 

Ron lifted the pink blanket enough for Draco and Gaby to see.  The baby had a firm grip on Ron’s finger, how sporting a gold wedding band.  Her little eyes were opened, revealing a deep blue, although Hermione suspected they would turn brown later.  At least she hoped, because otherwise, this little girl was all Weasley.

 

“Faith, this is your Uncle Draco!”  Ron introduced his new addition and Draco bent down to get a closer look when the little one sneezed, sending a surprised Draco back up, a delighted and yet, flustered look on his face.

 

Ginny burst out in laughter, tossing her head back with glee, an amused Harry and Gaby joining in.

 

With Voldemort long gone, they all looked forward to bringing this newest generation into a world that lay wide open with possibilities and unimaginable happiness. 


End file.
